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Bon Marche
CAROLINA'S MAIL ORDER HOUSE
ASHEVILLE, N. C.
GREAT VARIETY OF SPRING STOCKS
NOW ON DISPLAY
Every Department in this great store is fairly teeming over
with the new things for the incoming season. The stock is
especially rich in fine grade cotton fabrics, such as embroidered
voiles, handsome crepes, imported ginghams. You choose here
from a stock of cotton goods, that ranges in price from 10c to
$5 yard.
In SILKS we show taffetas, poplins, crepe de chines, etc., in
the new colorings, that include Belgian blue, sand, putty, battle-
ship gray and the new blue shades. The best dress silks come
wide, 36 to 40 inches, and sell at $1 to $2.50 yard.
Coverts, in the various weights and grades, are much in demand
for Spring and our showing depicts the very newest ideas in
wool fabrics.
SPRING GARMENTS DISPLAYED IN
OUR NEW DEPARTMENT
During the past month, we have completely remodeled our
Ready-to-wear Department. Huge revolving cabinets and unit
display cases have taken the place of racks and counters, until
every item of Ready-to-wear is shown behind a dust proof,
modern glass case or cabinet. Our motto is progress, we are
never satisfied with good enough.
Wooltex suits and coats are shown here — and from the silk
underskirts, waists, on up to the hai;idsomest evening gown,
you'll find quality running hand in hand with reasonable prices
and value and service our chief aim.
BON MARCHE
WRITE FOR SAMPLES
ASHEVILLE, N. C.
Please Mention This Magazine When Answering Advertisements
liH
SKY- LAN D
STORIES OF PICTURESQUE NORTH CAROLINA
The People's Magazine
c
Volume 2 MARCH, 1915 Number 1
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Page
Foreword— The Old North State ...R. E. Walker 2
Frontispiece — Major James S. Scales. 4
Editorial Comment.
The End is Justice...- Santford Martin ' 5
Behind the Sword the Omnipotent ...Al. Fairbrother 6
Religion and War .— James H. Caine 7
Has the Cloud a Silver Lining? Thomas Williams Chambliss 8
The New Door of Opportunity in Export Trade.... James A. Greer 11
Belgium the Vicarious Sufferer ..William Laurie Hill 14
To Sky-Land's Readers , 15
" Is the SKY-L.A.ND Magazine Subsidized?".... 16
Agitators and the Unemployed ...... 23
Carolina — A Poem... : ... William Eyre Brierley 24
A Chant of Hate — Translation ...Barbara Henderson 26
A Remarkable Translation .....: ... .Contributed 26
Special Articles. ' r ■;
Four Men and a Nymph in Pisgah Forest... „..._.... ...Hilliard Booth 28
The Man Who Saw Lincoln Assassinated ....!......':... .....Walter H. Candler 35
The Carolina Sandhills ■. :..., : ...Bion H. Butler 38
Discovering Carolina (A Poem) ... Mary Groome McNinch 42
The Romance of Carolina's Industrial Metropolis J. L. Ludlow 43
The Story of the Gold Producing Weed G. E. Webb 47
Road Work in North Carolina..... , __.-_:......_. Joseph Hyde Pratt 52
In North Carolina's Calcium Light.
O. Henry ;......... ,. C. Alphonso Smith 54
Winter King — (A Poem) ..; . ... .:;.-..^. .•....■..-...•...]■.. ....Charles Godfrey Leland 63
Fiction. ::
From Whose Bourne? . ...!.._..!. .-.:... :.....;/.:...:..". ...Mary C. Robinson 64
The Strength of the Hills „.....,.:...,:. .;-,■....:,,... ..'..v;V.5.a.-- - .-ZpE Kincaid Brockman 66
A Visit to "Mammy" ^-:... .'.!... ^'.■...;r.;.'.'.'..^!.'...'..-h-. ...... Joseph Riddick Estes 69
The Prize Picture °. ........ ::..,^.. ......£.■.. ..:.... .,....:. ...S. Elizabeth 74
The Song of the Falls — (A Poem) ...Annie T. Colcock 83
Industrial Section.
A Letter ...By Constance Lovejoy 84
Book Reviews.
The Mountain Girl — Author: Payne Erskine ' " 86
-^ n
FOREWORD
By R. E. Walker
Carolina, O my mother!
Swelling blood-tides in my heart
Tell thee of my soul's emotion
When I think on what thou art;
Bursting tears between my eyelids,
Trembling lips in silent prayer
Tell thee of a heart's devotion
That must all thy sorrows share.
Thou indeed, I know, art noble:
All the ages live in thee.
All there is of song and story.
All there is of history;
God has poured into thy being
David and Thermopalae,
And the Tiber's ancient glory
Arches plainly over thee.
I remember all thy being:
Thou wert born beside the sea,
Thou didst kill a thousand Redmen
For the lands that nourish thee,
Thou didst strike the English tyrant
Boldly for thy liberty.
Thou didst leave a million dead men
On the fields of Sixty-three.
Thou hast borne a corpse of penance
Fouler than the Albatross,
Thou hast risen all victorious
From the North's ignoble cross;
But, forgetful in thy struggle
To retrieve material loss.
Thou art dying now, inglorious.
On a base commercial cross.
Carolina, O my mother!
Think of thy nobility.
Of the sacred blood of ages
That the race has left to thee,,
Turn thee from thy sordid treasure
Rise thee from the golden tree,
Save thy soul, born of the ages,
For thy great posterity.
S K Y- L AN D
STORIES OF PICTURESQUE NORTH CAROLINA
The People's Magazine
Volume 2 MARCH, 1915 Number 1
Entered as Second-Class Matter at the Postoffice at Winston-Salem, N. C, Under the
Act of March 3, 1879
MAE LUCILE SM ITH _ Editor and Owner
Published Every Month
Sent by A4ail, One Year One Dollar
Single Copies Fifteen Cents
ADVISORY BOARD
Locke Craig Governor of North Carolina
Josephus Daniels Secretary of the Navy
Lee S. Overman .United States Senator
F. M. Simmons United States Senator
Joseph Hyde Pratt. State Geologist.
W. A. Erwin, President Durham Cotton Manufacturing Company Durham, N. C.
Julian S. Carr, Manufacturer and Banker..... .Durham, N. C.
J. Harper Erwin, Secretary and Treasurer Pearl Cotton Mills.... ...Durham, N. C.
J. C. Pritchard Judge United States Circuit Court of Appeals
S. B. TANNER, President Henrietta and Carolene Mills Charlotta, N. C.
John E. Ennis, M. D St. Petersburg, Fla.
R. M. WiLLCOX President Greater Hendersonville Club, Hendersonville, N. C
R. R. Haynes ....; President The Cliffside Mills, Cliffside, N. C.
W. A. Smith .' President Laurel Park Electric Railway, Hendersonville, N. C.
L. L. Jenkins President American National Bank, Asheville, N. C.
F. E. Durfee President Citizens Bank, Hendersonville, N. C.
B. Jackson President The People's National Bank, Hendersonville, N. C.
The cover page and entire contents of this Mag.\zine are protected by copyright, and
must not be reprinted without the publisher's permission.
MAJOR JAMES S. SCALES
Pioneer Tobacconist and Citizen of Winston-Salem, N. C.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
EDITORIAL COMMENT
^
The End is Justice.
(By Santford Martin, Editor of The
Winston-Salem Journal)
1\ /Ten who are big enough to think
-^^ ^ in terms of Nations and races
must stagger and stumble and fall,
when they come to predict the outcome
of the conflict now raging in half the
world. Events that have transpired in
Europe during the last few months are
too big for men to interpret. If Glad-
stone, even, were here today his states-
man's mind would stand appalled before
the horror of it all and he, like all the
rest, could only wonder what the end
will be. Nations are in their death
throes and Nations are in the borning.
But which are dying and which are
being born no man can tell. The his-
torian of the hour sees through a glass
darkly. A hundred, two hundred, five
hundred years from now he may be
able to tell what it all meant. For the
plan is divine and Divinity is working
it out. Man has loosed the dogs of
war in accordance with a plan not of
his own making. The Heavens are
shaping the destiny of Europe, and only
God knows what the future holds. All
that is left for us is to imagine and sur-
mise.
Tolstoi predicted everything. A short
while before he died the great Russian
writer, philosopher and friend of man
penned a prophecy, which, read today
in the light of all that has transpired in
the last three years, takes on new mean-
ing and becomes almost as weird as it is
impressive. In those prophetic lines Tol-
stoi said that Europe was on the verge
of a stupendous death struggle. He
said there would first be a little war in
the Balkans, starting in 1912 and end-
ing before the year was out; and that
then the big war would begin, involving
all the Nations of Europe, and would
continue with such horrors as the world
had never witnessed, until about the
end of the year 1915, when a new
Napoleon would come out of the North.
A new type of man this chieftain would
be, not like the old Napoleon, except
as a master of men. This man would
not be a warrior, but rather a thinker
and a man of peace. And he would
unite the Nations of the old world into
a United States of Europe. Tolstoi's
vision has proved true to life so far.
Before the year is done we shall know
whether the prophet looked far enough
behind the curtain to see all or only a
part of the drama.
Not two months ago another man,
an astrologer whose name escapes us
just now, read the stars and declared he
found therein an open book. Among
the things he saw and foretold at the
tirhe was a great calamity befalling
Italy and preventing her from joining
forces with the Allies to crush Germany.
He said that this would occur in the
early part of 1915. Another thing he
saw was a victorious German army and
that the Kaiser would not live to see
the final triumph of his people, which
would come in the year 1917. The
earthquake in Italy has fulfilled the
first prediction of the astrologer.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
This is interesting and is, perhaps,
quite as authentic as any information
that can be given regarding the outcome
of the war. But we should not lose
faith because we cannot see. We be-
lieve that right will triumph, always.
Out of the maelstrom of suffering and
horror and death we cannot but believe
that a new Europe will rise, greater
and grander than the old — a new and a
different civilization, in which crowns
will no longer glitter, scepters will no
longer wave and thrones will be known
no more forever. The ultimate victors
in this death struggle, whether Allies or
Germans, will be the people. The com-
mon man is in the trench — the common
man of Britons, Franks, Teutons and
Slavs. The common man will stand
face to face with Death and after that
kings will look small to him and courts
will lose their glamour.
There are four million Socialists in
Germany. If they were in America
they would be Democrats. They stand
for the rights of the common man.
We take no stock in the prophecies of
the astrologer. The stars, we fancy,
are too busy with their own affairs to
meddle with those of this little planet.
But there is food for thought in the
prediction that the German army ulti-
mately will be victorious and that the
Kaiser will not live to see the triumph.
After the Kaiser what? The answer is
easy. After the Kaiser the common
man. For over a century the people of
Europe have struggled for liberty.
They are fighting now for justice. The
same may be said of America, the only
difference being in the method of war-
fare used. In Europe they are fighting
with bullets; in America we are fighting
with ballots. But the end for all will
be the same. The end will be justice for
the common man.
Behind the Sword the Omnipotent
(By Al Fairbrother, Editor Everything)
T AM asked to give Sky-Land an edi-
-'- torial expression on any particular
phase of the European situation, from
any stand-point. This is certainly an
assignment broad enough to allow one
to disport himself in the wide seas of
imagination — but unhappily there is no
phase of the European situation worth
considering by a writer for the press.
Theory, theory, theory! Even the
grim strategists of war have been non-
plussed, and reason has taken to the
woods. If the allies win, and Germany
is reduced from a Nation to Nothing —
if she is wiped from the map of the
world, and the nations which fought
her and conquered her reach out greedy
hands and take to themselves all the
territory gained — nothing will have been
accomplished. Contrawise, should Ger-
many win and bring the proud enemies
to her feet and demand and receive all
kinds of indemnity, take and set up for
herself and by herself all of Europe and
call it Germany — and the Kaiser could
command the world — nothing would
have been gained — because so long as
men people the earth — war will exist,
and the fortunes of war are not unlike
the fortunes of other enterprises. The
elements of chance enter all things ter-
restrial— and no matter how long the
lane, there must sometime be a turn.
When the war is over there will be a
million or mayhap ten million less of
men; there will be disorder; there will
be sorrow, poverty and distress — and
there will be those to wear the medals
and there will be monuments builded
commemorating these human butcheries
— and the hands on the dial of the
great clock of time will record the fact
that the world has been set back a
thousand years in her commercial
progress — but that is all.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
There can be no peace so long as men
multiply. Health officers work for a
decrease in the death rate; things sani-
tary are commended and demanded ;
great orators preach for peace and the
abandonment of sword and gun — for-
getting that their theory is the man
made moral law which they would up-
hold— but in upholding it violate the
natural law of creation.
Were we to have no wars; were we to
have perfect health and men and women
lived to be two and three hundred
years of age as their ante-diluvian for-
bears lived — were there no cataclysms —
how soon, how very soon, would the
world be so crowded with humanity
that pestilence would come and per-
haps depopulate the world?
How long the sons of men have en-
gaged in battle against each other, we
have no history to enlighten us. The
Scripture seems to have recorded noth-
ing until Nimrod, the founder of the
Babylonish empire made invasions on
the territories of his neighbors. He
was ambitious and wanted power. Of
course we all know that before the
flood, when Cain imbrued his hands in
his brother's blood — war was first on.
But Nimrod set the pace and then fol-
lowed the bloody train of the Alex-
anders, the Caesars, the Hannibals,
the Tamerlanes, the Marlboroughs, the
Fredericks, the Bonapartes, the czars,
the kaisers, the presidents and the
people, driving their engines of destruc-
tion and devastation through the world,
putting to shame a Chicago packing
house by the number of its slaughtered
victims — justifying these atrocious mur-
ders, and assuring the widows and the
orphans that their husbands and fathers
had not died in vain!
And no matter if the Hague sends out
its preachments every minute in the
day; no matter how much we talk or
write or pray for universal and world-
wide peace our petitions will go for
naught and our prayers cannot be
answered. Why? Because of that
eternal law — the survival of the fittest —
the primal law that might makes right.
It has been computed, for an illustra-
tion that during the last 22 years of the
reign of that unspeakable and bloody
tyrant Jenghiz-Kahn, in the nations of
the east, fifteen million persons were
butchered by this one fiend in human
shape. And it has been further con-
servatively estimated that there have
been killed in wars some twenty thous-
and millions of human beings — enough
to populate twenty worlds, such as ours.
And suppose there had been always
peace. Suppose that Science, with her
goggles and her make-believe had pre-
served life to the period she now claims
she expects to do — where, pray, would
all these beings have found room to
even stand? Therefore I reverently
stand uncovered before this mighty
theatre of war now on in Europe, and
while I see suffering and see deeds of
bravery and hear the moans and groans
of the dying; see them lying in the
trenches shivering and starving; see the
soldiers turn cold eyes to a colder sky —
yet on this frightful and repulsive field
of carnage I see God, in His Power and
His Glory, and know, without under-
standing why, that it is as it should be —
therefore it were useless for me to specu-
late upon cause or effect.
Religion and War.
(By James H. Caine, Editor of The
Ashevflle Citizen)
TF the frightful slaughter which has
-'- devastated Europe for the last
seven months furnishes food for re-
flection at all, it must cause one to
SKY-LANDMAGAZINE
dwell on the relation of religion to war.
The European war of itself, to say
nothing of its signal atrocities and at-
tendant horrors, has caused humanity
to wonder if, after all, Christianity has
failed in its mission, and whether or not
the civilizing influences we have at-
tributed to religion have fallen short of
the mark. Men wonder how it is that
despite the principles and teachings of
religious faith, murder and slaughter by
the wholesale are carried on under the
guise of Christianity, and the blas-
phemous spectacle of invoking the
Deity to lend a hand in the carnage is
witnessed in high places. Perhaps the
truth lies in the fact that religion of
itself has not fallen short, but that the
responsibility lies in man's failure to
live up to its principles and teachings.
It is well enough to sit in the "amen
corner", smug and content with the
individual lot, with no care for others.
Did nations and men live up to the
teachings of Christ, war would not be
made at the bidding of a single prince
or potentate
There is nothing in Christianity or its
teachings to justify murder, individually
or by the thousands. It is purely the
institution of a godless humanity, and
it has survived, as all human error has
survived, since the Tragedy of the
Cross. It seems, indeed, that countless
spirits in the world of religion have
labored in vain to establish peace
among men. The late Pope Pius X
spent his life in the effort to maintain
universal peace; he prayed for it, even
up to his dying hour. Seeing how mis-
erably he had failed, he turned his face
to the wall and died of a broken heart.
We repeat that religion cannot hope
to exercise an influence for peace until
it becomes stronger in practice than in
theory. For centuries the wickedness
of warfare has been taught from the
pulpit and the rostrum, yet men still
sacrifice their lives on fields of shame
and horror without seeking a better
method of settling disputes. They
have not yet realized that differences
between nations cannot be rightly
settled by force of arms. Therein lies
the great tragedy of the greatest and
bloodiest conflict the world has ever
known. The negotiations which must
eventually ensue could have accom-
plished just as much as they will ac-
complish had they been undertaken
before a single life was offered as a
sacrifice to the lust of imperialism.
The thousands of nameless dead whose
bones lie rotting on the blood-soaked
fields of Belgium and France will count
for nothing when the final terms of
peace shall be written.
Has the Cloud a Silver Lining?
(By Thomas Williams Chambliss)
TT^IGHT months of world war — the
-'— ' like of which the world has never
seen and never expected to see. Com-
ing at the time in the world's history
when world-wide peace was beginning to
be a well worn phase and when all
nations were united, as they presumed,
in an alliance for perpetual peace.
Darkness has been over the land for
eight months — the clouds are heavy
still, they are black like night, there is
no apparent break. Have those clouds
any silver lining?
So full of horror, so much of cruelty;
so many deep, long gloomy trenches of
buried, unmarked dead; so many homes
forever wrecked ; so many orphaned and
starving children; so many widows,
whose hearts may never smile again —
it seems almost reckless to suggest the
possibility of a silver lining to the dark
clouds that hover over Europe.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Those clouds are a long ways off, you
say. Is Europe so far away? Even
though there are miles of salt water
between us and the shadowed people of
the suffering nations — they are close
akin to many of us. In truth, hundreds
of thousands of the people of this land
are so near of kin that hearts bleed over
here for personal reasons. If the news
bureaus were able to publish the lists
of the lost in battle, hundreds of
thousands of our neighbors would
mourn.
Life is a strange blending of joy and
sorrow; of hope and despair; of purity
and sin. In the midst of the terrible
struggle of m_en and nations; without
consideration of the causes leading up
to the present terrific contest; without
effort to judge motive of master or ac-
tion of man; in the midst of the greatest
war in the history of the world ; it is
possible to see just a bit of silver lining.
Standing afar off, watching the con-
flict; the observer must acknowledge
the magnificient display of devotion —
devotion to leader and devotion to
land. Without personal consideration;
without a moment of delay; without a
thought of criticism; millions of men
have dropped their personal affairs
and catching their guns from the racks
have gone forth to do or to die. They
have not looked back.
When millions of men are so devoted
to their leaders and their lands, there
is good — good in such men.
Then there are millions of women —
they could not bear arms but they
could bear sorrow. They smile at their
men as they march away and they
take up the tasks of the men at home
and smiling still are equally as devoted
to their leaders and their lands.
The cloud has a silver lining. The
dark side of the cloud is the clearer —
but it has a lining.
But there is more for consideration.
Not many weeks ago a tourist re-
turned from Russia, left the land of the
Great Bear after war had been in prog-
ress several months. According to the
tourist, Russia is in the midst of a surg-
ing wave of religious fervor. The
people of all classes and of both sexes
are flocking to the churches for worship
and their bearing seems to suggest in-
tense earnestness. Following a personal
investigation, the Czar of Russia has
brought about absolute prohibition in
the nation. One who is better posted
than others — George Kennon writes
recently of the changed conditions. He
said, "All Russia is filled with enthusiasm
and gratitude. As if by the waving of a
magic wand, drunkenness, debauchery,
wild cries, disputing and fighting have
ceased in the streets of both villages and
towns. Factories and workshops are
filling their orders with promptness and
accuracy. In households long accus-
tomed to poverty, strife, drunken quar-
rels and blows, there are now peace and
quiet. The very face of Russia, long
disfigured by alcholic excess, seems to
have been transformed and ennobled."
There is a silver lining to the black
cloud of war.
It is a touching story that comes
from France, and the story comes
through a correspondent to the London
Times. This correspondent is in Paris
and he says, "One result of the war is a
distinct revival of religion in France.
The so-called "clerical peril" has dis-
appeared from the popular imagination.
Everywhere priests have been dis-
tinguished for their heroism and patri-
otic devotion. Several have died on
the field of battle and others are among
the wounded." Commenting on the
reports from France, the London Times
says, editorially, "No feature of the
war has been more striking than the
10
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
religious feeling it has evoked. We shall
be surprised if the war and the pro-
spiritual emotions it has kindled are not
attended by a quickening and deepen-
ing of religious feeling in England as
well as in France."
There is a silver lining to the black
cloud of war.
Then there is Germany. From a
church official, comes this message of
hope. "The soldiers are now receptive
as they never were before and if a
living faith could be implanted in their
hearts now, it would mean a change in
our whole national life."
But there is still another witness.
Prof. August Lange, of the University
of Halle, Germany, is thus quoted in
the Baptist World of Louisville, Ky.
"The churches are full and overflow-
ing as they have not been for decades.
Religious sentiment, among the masses
seems to have taken on a new lease of
life." Another correspondent writes,
"A new religious earnestness has come
upon our nation. It is retracing its way
to the God of our fathers and therewith
to the best source of its strength. There
is a stern protest against the frivolity
and coarseness of the past. Our faith
would never have thought such a
change possible and it is a wonderful
joy to see such a holy awakening."
There is a silver lining to the black
cloud of war.
How about America? What is to be
the result of the cloud? Does the black
cloud which hovers over Europe and
shadows this country in a large measure,
have a silver lining towards America?
America is learning a peculiar lesson.
We had never realized our dependence
on others. Capable of feeding and
clothing ourselves, it had never dawned
upon us that in a moment, with the
flash of the telegraph spark, with a
single message of a single word, our
commerce, our business, our finances, —
our very life could be paralyzed. But it
was so. When the word — WAR —
caught our eyes that hot summer day
of Nineteen Hundred and Fourteen —
the result was paralysis.
America raises her food and can make
her clothes. But America does more —
she raises a surplus and upon this sur-
plus she depends. She must sell it and
the brothers across the Sea have been
buying it. America has learned a
lesson — it was a hard lesson, and the
learning hurt, but it was good for
America. It is the lesson of economy.
America has been spending money too
lavishly. Living too high. Hence the
deep hurt all through the summer and
winter days. Especially is this true of
the Cotton states. The cotton states
must be more careful, cultivate more of
varied crops, buy more economically,
live more at home and be less dependent.
There is a silver lining to the black
cloud of war.
But there is another vision. The
world is but a grouping of individuals.
It is hard to teach an individual except
by example. So with the world. Indi-
viduals do not easily change their ways.
Experience, hard, hurting experience
will persuade individuals to change
their habits. So with nations. This
terrible conflict is a hard, hurting ex-
perience with every nation. No matter
who wins, the result is likely to be the
same — an abandonment of militarism.
Not absolutely, at first, not entirely for
a long time, but it will come. Out of all
this carnage; all this cruelty; all this
sacrifice; there will come democracy.
The common people will come into their
own. It Avill cost suffering, sorrow,
blood — but it will come.
There is a silver lining to the black
cloud of war.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
11
The New Door of Opportunity in
Export Trade.
(By James A. Greer, Editor The Textile Manu-
facturer)
'E CANNOT forecast the final re-
sult of the great war now rag-
ing in Europe, but we are beginning to
realize that this war, whether it con-
tinues long or comes to an abrupt close
shortly, has opened a new door of op-
portunity to American export trade.
We shudder at the harrowing details
of the battles that are being fought,
and scan the daily newspaper to learn
as best we may the results of the mighty
conflict.
As a peace-loving nation we stand
awe-stricken, as we gaze upon the awful
carnage that is being waged for com-
mercial supremacy, we are told among
hitherto peaceful neighbors.
As much as we deplore the present
struggle, and as hard as we shall strive
to remain neutral, we cannot ignore the
fact that our country, as a whole, is to
reap a harvest of new business in export
trade. Business that in the very nature
of things could not have been ours but
for this cruel war.
Deploring the war, however, will not
and does not justify us in refraining
from accepting the opportunity that has
been thrust upon us to reach out and
get this world trade.
Having this opportunity before us it
becomes our privilege, even our duty, to
grasp this trade and to build it up,
foster and nourish it, for the general
welfare of our country and our posterity.
In securing this trade to ourselves, we
do not necessarily act upon the cold
principle that, "They may take who
can," but it becomes a duty for us to
supply to the nations of the world, those
products, which for the present, at
least, cannot be had elsewhere.
With this wonderful opportunity in
export trade before us we must do one
of two things: We must either sit down,
like Micawber, and wait for something
to turn up, or we must get out in the
markets of the world and turn some-
thing up, and from authentic reports of
transactions that have been going on
for the past few months, we feel certain
that the latter course is already being
pursued.
At the recent session of the foreign
trade convention, held in St. Louis,
there was ample evidence that the war
had opened up an avenue for foreign
trade such as the United States had
never dreamed of. How to rise to this
opportunity and the best methods to
be pursued in getting and keeping this
export business, is, of course, one upon
which there is much difference of
opinion. All seem to agree, however,
that a merchant marine capable of
handling this great world trade is of
primary importance.
Secondary to a merchant marine, we
must have satisfactory banking facil-
ities with all foreign countries, and then
we must have competent agents in these
countries to handle our products.
We believe that adequate shipping
facilities will soon be established and
that banking arrangements — including
the matter of extending credits — will be
adjusted at an early date. We learn
from an authoritative source that the
question of credit extension has, in a
number of cases, been grossly exagger-
ated, and it is stated that in most
countries where we would desire to
extend our export trade, the leading
merchants will discount their bills if a
satisfactory discount is offered.
It is true that in a great many of the
foreign countries the people object to
paying for their goods prior to delivery,
but even then a 60 or 90-day period of
payment might be expected.
12
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
The question of sending out salesmen
or agents to get this foreign trade is an
important one. It will require men of
unquestioned business ability to prop-
erly look after this trade, and too, they
must be experts in their respective lines,
and possess a degree of diplomacy so
necessary in dealing with an alien
people. In this line of work, we will
need; not lawyers, doctors, preachers or
teachers, but rather hard-headed, cold-
blooded— if you please — business men.
We have heretofore attempted to sell
our goods to foreigners as we make
them, instead of catering to their wants
and making for them such goods as they
have become accustomed to use. All
this must be changed, and instead of
attempting to educate an alien race to
adopt our customs and styles, we must
make for them such goods as their na-
tivity demands.
The department of commerce has be-
come a potent force in the dissemina-
tion of much useful information as to
foreign and domestic commerce. This
department has a large number of
special agents in various parts of the
world, in addition to the regular corps
of consuls stationed in all foreign
countries. Reports from these agents,
covering all lines of industry and trade
are published daily. These commerce
reports contain much useful informa-
tion and should be in the hands of
everyone interested in the development
of foreign trade.
It is of prime importance that to
properly develop foreign trade each
industry should have a personal rep-
resentative on the ground to look after
this business.
Once you have found the right man,
it will be advisable to encourage him
by making a special agreement which
for a certain period gives him the sole
sale rights cf your goods with the pos-
sibility of extending same over a further
period provided he obtains certain re-
sults. The most successful sales of
American goods in Russia are con-
ducted in this way, to mention only
Alfred Grodzki of Warsaw, sole agent
for the National Harvester Company
and a number of other agricultural
machinery manufacturers; A. Friede of
Petrograd, sole agent for Ford motor
cars; G. Gerlach of Warsaw, sole agent
for Underwood typewriters, and J. I.
Block Company, sole agents for Roneo,
Remington typewriters, etc., each of
these firms leading the market in its
specialty.
A marked improvement in our for-
eign trade is indicated by the latest re-
ports issued by the Department of
Commerce through its Bureau of For-
eign and Domestic Commerce, sales of
foodstuffs and certain lines of manu-
factures having been unusually large
in November the latest period for
which detailed information is at hand.
In that month exports aggregated 206
million dollars, or double the total for
August last when, by reason of the
outbreak of war, our foreign trade fell
to the lowest level reached in many
years. In December there was further
improvement, the month's exports being
valued at 246 million dollars, compared
with 233 million in December, 1913, and
within 4 million of the high record
established in December, 1912.
An analysis of the trade figures pub-
lished in the "Summary of Foreign
Commerce" shows that while American
cotton, mineral oils, naval stores, lum-
ber and agricultural implements are in
less demand abroad than in former
years, there is a greater demand in
foreign countries for our breadstuffs,
meats, sugar, clothing and other man-
ufactures, especially in Europe. A
citation of a few of the larger factors
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
13
in our foreign trade will illustrate more
clearly this fact.
Of breadstuffs the November exports
exceeded in value 40 million dollars, or
four times as much as in November,
1913; of commercial automobiles the
month's exports aggregated 2]/^ million
dollars, or 22 times the value exported
in November, 1913; of eggs, IJ^ million
dollars, or 3 times as much; of sole
leather, 33^ million dollars, or 8 times
as much as in November a year earlier;
of metal-working machinery and ma-
chine tools, nearly 2 million dollars, or
twice as much as a year earlier; of cot-
ton wearing apparel, 2]/^ million dollars,
or almost 3 times the value for Novem-
ber, 1913; of chemicals drugs and dyes,
3i<£ million dollars, or 50 per cent more
than in November of the previous year;
of cotton manufactures, b}/^ million dol-
lars, or 30 per cent above the figures of
the preceding November; of men's
boots and shoes, li<^ million dollars, an
increase of 60 per cent; and of cotton-
seed oilcake and meal, 21/2 million dol-
lars, an increase of 50 per cent. Of
especial interest is the remarkable
growth in exports of refined sugar and
woolen goods, the former increasing
from $177,000 to $2,386,000, and the
latter from $440,000 to $3,048,000 when
November, 1913, is compared with the
corresponding month of last year.
Striking changes in the movement of
specified articles to given countries dur-
ing November include a million dollars'
worth of corn to the Netherlands, as
against 4 thousand dollars ' worth a year
earlier; large increases in wheat ship-
ments to the United Kingdom, Italy,
Germany and France, in sums ranging
from 7 million down to 2}/2 million; an
increase of 1^ million dollars in auto-
mobile sales to France; the month's
total being nearly twice the amount
shown in any complete fiscal year; a
doubling of the exports of copper to
the United Kingdom, and an increase of
200 per cent in sales of automobile tires
to England. Of metal-working ma-
chinery the November exports to the
United Kingdom exceeded 1 million dol-
lars' value or 9 times as much as a year
earlier, and those to France nearly
trebled. The United Kingdom also
took over 3 million dollars' worth of
American sole leather, as against less
than 300,000 dollars' worth in Novem-
ber, 1913, and Europe as a whole
bought 836,000 dollars worth of boots
and shoes, or four times as much as a
year ago. British purchases of Ameri-
can beef exceeded 2,400 thousand dol-
lars, against less than 40 thousand dol-
lars in November of the prior year.
Further evidence of the activity of
American manufacturers and producers
in meeting the increased demand for
our goods in certain quarters and some
indication of the extent to which our
trade in other sections has been affected
by reduced purchasing power and finan-
cial disturbance are contained in the
November Summary of Foreign Com-
merce, in which is presented a general
survey of our trade relations with each
country of the world and of the develop-
ments of the inward and outward move-
ments of the important articles of com-
merce.
To get this foreign trade we must go
after it and stay after it until we get it.
The opportunity is here. It is a great
opportunity. The door is open and will
remain open until the war is over. As
soon as that indefinite period arrives
the nations that have heretofore had
this trade will attempt to close the door
against American trade and to reclaim
these markets for themselves. Now is
the time for America to strike for this
trade. It is now that the iron is hot.
Not only will the present war change
14
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the map of Europe, but it will bring
about a feeling of hatred between cer-
tain of the warring nations that will
have a marked effect upon the business
relations of those countries for many-
years after the world is again at peace.
A people do not quickly forgive and
forget an enemy that has ravaged their
country, destroyed their homes and
killed their loved ones.
An example of this is to be seen here
in our own country, where fifty years
after the conflict between the North
and the South, there are still those who
refer to their opponents, as those
"d Yankees" or those "d
Rebels" as the case may be.
This feeling between the warring na-
tions of Europe will put a premium on
American Commerce and it is safe to
predict that if our manufacturers and
merchants, assisted by the government,
as they should be, put forth the neces-
sary efforts to take, develop and hold
the export trade that is now available
as a result of the greatest war in history,
the United States will soon enter upon
an unprecedented era of prosperity.
Belgium the Vicarious Suiferer.
By William Laurie Hill.
TN the almost overwhelming cata-
-*- clysm that has swept over Europe,
involving nearly every nationality and
carrying death and desolation into
thousands of once peaceful homes,
there is no nationality that so bestirs
our sympathy and pity as plucky little
Belgium.
Belgium dates her existence as a
separate state, back to the year 1830,
having been previously a part of the
Netherlands. The population is made
up of two races — the Flemings and
Walloons with here and there people
of German descent.
The population was always thrifty
and during the last half of the 19th
century they redeemed from the great
Salt Marshes over 270,000 acres for
cultivation. A farm in Belgium aver-
ages something over five acres, and
about two fifths of the land is farmed by
owners. Other farms amount to from
25 to 132 acres. This rich and thrifty
little State prior to the invasion of the
Germans, sustained a larger percentage
of population than any other part of
Europe, the average being 605 per
square mile. Her cities — Antwerp,
Ghent, Brussels, Bruges, Nieupoort,
Leige; and her beautiful rural towns,
have recently become more famous than
ever before, as they have been the storm
centre of a mighty invasion, and many
of her most choice examples of archi-
tecture have become a pile of ruins —
and her gems of art have become the
spoil of the invader.
Lying just in between France on the
one side, and Germany on the other —
Belgium was situated not unlike "The
Holy Land" — being on the great high-
way between powerful nations, and
furnishing a battle ground for any in-
vader.
When the War Cloud arose in Europe
last summer, the determination of
Germany was quickly taken. She must
fight fast and furious — o v e r w h e 1 m
France before Russia could mobilize and
then join Austria in an invasion of
Russia. To do this, Germany must use
the territory of a neutral power, Bel-
gium, for to approach France through
French territory, meant a vigorous
defence on the part of France and a
much slower campaign than suited the
ideas of the Kaiser.
For Belgium to give Germany the
right of way over her territory, to at-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
15
tack a peaceable neighbor, would have
been acting in bad faith to France, and
would have put Belgium on the German
side in this contest.
This, very naturally, Belgium refused
to do, and quickly determined that she
would resist by force, any invasion of
her territory.
England and Germany were both of
them signatories to the guarantee of
Belgium's independence, and it is clear
to all readers of History that the first
breach of faith with Belgium was when
Germany, without her consent, marched
a hostile army across her border to
invade France — a nation with which
Belgium was at peace.
England was true to her pledge to
Belgium, while Germany was not to be
balked in her warlike intentions — by
what one of her diplomats called "a
piece of paper."
So in all this struggle, the origin of it
may be traced to "a breach of faith,"
and to that greater cause — spelled with
four letters — "Greed."
While Belgium is the battle ground
and her people the greatest sufferers of
all, she stands forth today as a bright
example of true loyalty and patriotism,
and we may be sure in the final settle-
ment, "she will get her own."
When the fighting is all over — then
comes "the green table", and we may
be sure that the millions that have
been battling to dethrone "one man
power" in Europe will never sheath a
sword until poor Belgium shall have
restored to her, all the civic rights she
once possessed — and shall receive some
indemnity at least, for the despoiling
to which she has been subject in these
dark and weary months.
Little Belgium will come forth from
the hot crucible of war with the dross
consumed, and the bright, pure gold of
her character, shining with a lustre
that shall attest with no uncertainty,
the true greatness of her people.
Belgium has not only the sympathy,
but will also have the generous aid of
the American people, and it is with a
glad hand we will welcome those of
them, w^ho feel a desire to find homes in
this favored land.
To do the right, as God doth give the light.
To strike the wrong — it was but faith and duty;
They welcome shot and shell — war's darkest
night —
Became the spoil of lust of pow'r, and booty.
Crushed they may be, but there's a gladsome
day.
When peace shall fling her banner to the breeze,
When lust of pow'r shall no more have its way.
And tyrants shall be crushed, brought to their
knees.
To Sky-Land's Readers
'T^HE readers of the current and sub-
^ sequent issue of Sky-Land Mag-
azine are oiTered the privilege of con-
templating various phases of the Great
Question at present engaging the atten-
tion of the whole world and its bearing
upon national life from the viewpoint
of some of the ablest editors and authors
in North Carolina.
Each distinctive editorial expression
in the current number is so excellent
that it was difficult to determine which
is best and Sky-Land's editor found
herself in the position of a hostess who
has the placing at table of guests of
equal distinction. But one can occupy
the seat at her right — and yet by birth,
breeding and social position one is as
deserving of the honor as another —
which shall it be?
In the perplexity of placing her
guests around Sky-Land's editorial
board a happy thought suddenly
occurred to the editor — she would
call the office boy and printer's devil to
the rescue; for printer's devils and office
16
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
boys have been known in times past to
offer some very sage suggestions. The
thought was no sooner registered than
acted upon— the office boy and the
printer's devil were called in and after
a brief consultation, seated on top the
typewriter desk, they announced the
difficulty unraveled.
Whereupon the printer's devil, acting
as spokesman, suggested that the name
of each contributing editor be written
on a small slip of paper — which the
editor promptly styled place cards —
that these be shuffled together in the
foreman's hat and drawn out by the
office boy, with the understanding that
the first name drawn should have the
leading position or seat of honor, on
the editorial page; and so on just
as they were consecutively drawn should
each editor be placed at the editorial
board.
Thus through the diplomacy of the
printer's devil and office boy the plac-
ing of the guests was accomplished
without discrimination against or par-
tiality towards anyone. — Ed. Note.
"Is The Sky-Land Magazine Sub-
sidized?"
T HEREBY affirm that I am sole
-'- owner of the Sky-Land Magazine
and control its policy absolutely.
I wish the fact distinctly emphazised
that not a dollar of mill stock is invested
in said magazine and that I have never
received and never expect to receive
any salary whatsoever from manufac-
turers or anyone else, for that matter,
in payment of editorials on the Child
Labor question which have appeared
and shall continue to appear from time
to time in the Sky-Land Magazine.
Said editorials are the • voluntary ex-
pression of my individual viewpoint
and honest conviction after careful
study and personal investigation of
conditions in a number of representa-
tive mills in North Carolina. I em-
phatically deny that the Sky-Land
Magazine is "subsidized" by any cor-
poration or faction whatsoever.
Witness my hand and seal this Feb.
2nd, 1915.
[SEAL] Mae Lucile Smith.
Editor and Owner Sky-Land Magazine.
State of North Carolina,
Forsyth County.
Personally appeared before me Miss
Mae Lucile Smith, who signed the above
statement in my presence and upon
being duly sworn stated that the said
statement is true in every respect.
Witness my hand and official seal this
Feb. 2nd, 1915.
H. W. FoLTZ, Notary Public.
My Commission Expires May 24th,
1915.
[SEAL]
While it has been the policy of the
Sky-Land Magazine to steer clear of
controversy of whatsoever nature in
view of the fact that its honor has been
assailed, its integrity questioned by a
member of the National Child Labor
Committee who openly implied that
the Sky-Land was "subsidized by the
mills of the State" and "arrayed against
the welfare of the child"; and that "it
looked like" the editor had been "put
up" to writing certain editorials on the
child labor question by certain members
of its advisory board who happen to be
manufacturers, the Sky-Land Maga-
zine cannot permit the imputation to
pass unchallenged, but takes this
opportunity to clearly define its
position on the Child Labor ques-
tion and to speak a word in defense of
its honor and the honor of those mem-
bers of its advisory board against
whom the accusation was made, said
accusation being founded wholly upon
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
17
suspicion and without a vestige of
evidence to sustain it.
It may not be amiss in this connec-
tion to say that the Sky-Land Magazine
was most careful in the selection of its
advisory board, all of whom are far-
sighted gentlemen of sound judgment,
unbiased opinion and unimpeachable
honor.
Of the seventeen members composing
the board, six happen to be m.anufactur-
ers, but just why six should be accused
of dictating or controlling the policy
of the magazine and the remaining
eleven who occupy equally prominent
and influential positions 'be utterly
ignored is a matter for mild conjecture.
The Sky-Land Magazine has sought
and will continue to seek the counsel of
its advisory board upon outside ques-
tions pertaining to its welfare, but shall
at all times exercise the right to control
its policy absolutely.
And as long as the freedom of the
press is permitted it shall not only
continue to dictate its policy, but shall
openly express its convictions upon any
subject or subjects in which it may be
interested regardless of criticism, veiled
insinuation or open attack.
As the affidavit herein incorporated
bears witness, not a dollar of mill stock
is invested in Sky-Land Magazine; nor
has any salary ever been received by
the Sky-Land Magazine in payment for
its editorial utterances on the Child
Labor question, as has been insinuated.
Damaging and misleading represen-
tations made by certain platform lec-
turers and misstatements in certain
printed literature pertaining to so-called
"Abuses in Southern Cotton Mills" to
say nothing of a profound interest in
eccHDmicand sociological problems were
the motives which prompted the editor of
the Sky-Land Magazine to institute a
personal investigation into conditions
in a number of representative cotton
mills in North Carolina and to sub-
sequently write the result of this investi-
gation for certain other publications
sometime before the idea of a Sky-Land
Magazine was conceived.
In conducting this investigation the
visits to the mills were in nearly every
instance unexpected to the management,
consequently there was neither time to
"dress up the mills" nor to "whisk the
infants under bales of cotton" as the
lecturer claimed was done when visitors
"were expected.'
The result of the investigation proved
that the damaging charges made against
the mills by the lecturer and in the
printed literature were either greatly
exaggerated or wholly false and a sense
of fair play dictated that the public
should be told the truth concerning
conditions in the average North Caro-
lina mill. Sky-Land has told the true
story and the result is that it has been
accused of being "subsidized" by the
mills and "arrayed against the interest
of the child." But regardless of the
accusation Sky-Land shall continue to
tell the truth and shall endeavor to give
it widespread publicity wherever these
misrepresentations are found to exist.
On the mailing galleys of the Sky-
Land Magazine may be found the names
of a few manufacturers — the only regret
is that there are not more — along with
the names of men in other lines of busi-
ness and the professions. From a sin-
cere desire to aid in the upbuilding of
Southern literature some of the latter
have subscribed for additional copies of
the Sky-Land for their friends just as
seven or eight manufacturers have sub-
scribed for additional copies of Sky-
Land to be sent to their friends and
operatives — prompted partially by the
same motive and also from a desire to
give their operatives the benefit of the
18
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Industrial Section which, through the
Constance Lovejoy letters, is conducted
along lines calculated to be stimulating
and helpful to the moral, mental and
physical development of the boy and
girl mill operatives in whom Constance
Lovejoy takes an individual pride and
interest. Even though Sky-Land is
accused of being "subsidized" it has
not yet been made logically clear just
why the manufacturers and mill oper-
atives should be debarred from sub-
scribing to a magazine devoted to the
exploitation of Southern interests while
people in all other lines of business and
the professions are found among its
readers and subscribers in considerably
greater number. Kor does the Sky-
Land Magazine hesitate to say that it
intends to make a persistent effort,
through its solicitors, to obtain sub-
scriptions from manufacturers, and
operatives, just as it intends to leave
no stone unturned to secure as great
a number of subscribers as is pos-
sible among bankers, club women,
professional men, business people, day
laborers, farmers, teachers and so on
ad infinitum; for Sky-Land is the
people's magazine and its reading matter
is of a varied character designed to suit
the tastes and meet the needs of all the
people who want only the clean and the
wholesome in literature.
Nor is this all: Now that the Sky-
Land Magazine has built its circulation
and arranged its distribution to reach
into every state in the Union, into
Canada, Alaska, the West Indies and
even England, it is the determined
purpose of the Sky-Land Magazine to
secure manufacturers' advertising just
as it is its determined purpose to secure
the advertising of merchants, bankers,
colleges, real estate men and so on
through the whole advertising direc-
tory, even if it be necessary to send its
representatives or solicitors before bank-
ers' meetings, teachers' meetings, farm-
ers' institutes, church conventions or
meetings of the textile associations to
accomplish the purpose. And if enroll-
ing a few thousand additional sub-
scribers on Sky-Lands' records from
this promiscuous group or including a
few additional pages in its advertising
section be called "subsidizing the maga-
zine" then and in that event the accusa-
tion will have to pass for what it is
worth.
For the benefit of those who have
been thoughtlessly or purposely mis-
informed, it may be well at this time
to clearly define the position of Sky-
Land Magazine on the Child Labor
Question.
First and foremost Sky-Land Maga-
zine recognizes the existence of a Child
Labor law for the regulation of the age
limit of children woking in mills and
factories in the state of North Carolina.
Furthermore the Sky-Land Magazine
recognizes the wisdom and justice of
such law and uneciuivocally advocates
its enforcement. The Sky-Land Maga-
zine does not for a moment sanction the
working of children under twelve years
of age in mills and factories save in the
case of boys upon whom widowed or
invalid mothers are dependent wholly
or in part for support and in such cases
it would seem that a modification of the
present law is not only practicable but
necessary to meet the exigencies of the
case.
The Sky-Land Magazine is by no
means unmindful of the wording of
Sec. 3362 Pell's Revisal of 1908, N. C.
Vol. II, which is as follows:
Section 3362. Children under
twelve not worked in factories.
"If any mill owner, superintend-"
"ent or other person acting in"
"behalf of a factory or manufac-"
' 'turing establishment shall know-"
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
19
ingly and willingly employ any"
"child under twelve years of age"
"to work in any factory or manu- "
"facturing establishment, except"
"in oyster canning and packing"
"manufactories where said can-"
"ning and packing manufactories"
'pay for opening or shucking"
'oysters by the gallon or bushel,"
"he shall be guilty of a misdemea-"
nor."
The Sky-Land Magazine goes a step
further by recommending that the
offender be not only adjudged "guilty
of a misdemeanor," but that he be
publicly exposed and punished in such
degree as the law prescribes and the
gravity of the case warrants.
Moreover, it would seem the solemn
duty of each individual member of the
Child Labor Committee who has knowl-
edge of such violation to publicly expose
and bring to justice the lawbreaker;
for carrying into actual practice the
principles one advocates is more con-
vincing and conducive to the accomp-
lishment of a purpose than all the
preachments in Christendom. The
Child Labor Committee has repeatedly
averred that the child labor law in
North Carolina is being violated and
yet it fails to name the violators of
Sec. 3362 or bring them to justice.
Since law is necessary and the enforce-
ment of law equally necessary and ap-
plicable to parties guilty of violation, it
would seem that charges of violation
should be made in a direct, definite,
specific way and not in an intangible,
beat-around-the-bush, Lfear-to-offend-
you manner.
The Child Labor Committee also
seem to neglect the due enforcement of
Section 3364 and clause 6 Section 3740.
as follows:
Section 3364. Children; par-
ents misstating age of : "If any ' '
" parent or person standing in rela- "
"tion of parent, upon hiring his"
'children to any factory or manu-'
'facturing establishment, shall'
'fail to furnish such establish-
'ment a written statement of the
'age of such child or children
'being hired, and if any such par-
'ent, or person standing in the re-
'lation of parent to such child or
'children, shall in such written
'statement misstate the age of
'such child or children being so
'employed he shall be guilty of a
'misdemeanor, and upon convic-
'tion shall be punished at the
discretion of the court."
Section 3740. Vagrancy. "If
any person shall come within
any of the following classes, he
shall be deemed a vagrant, and
shall be fined not exceeding fifty
dollars or imprisoned not ex-
ceeding thirty days."
6. All able-bodied men who
have no visible means of support
who shall live in idleness upon
the wage or earnings of their
mother, wife or minor child or
children, except male child or
children over eighteen years of
aee."
It is a well known fact that these
sections are often violated. Greed-lov-
ing or shiftless parents often swear
falsely to the age of the child in order
to increase their earnings at his expense
or else throw the burden of support
upon the child ; and surely this class of
violator should be forced to pay the
penalty of the law to the utmost farth-
ing.
The Sky-Land Magazine not only
approves the law regulating the age
limit of children, but strongly endorses a
compulosry school law for every state
in the Union; howbeit, with an eli-
minating clause applicable to that class
styled in the Commissioner's Report
"dependents", whose work prevents
them from attending school during
working hours. In justice to these
unfortunates it would seem a wise pro-
20
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
vision if the State could provide night
classes or better still vocational part-
time schools and see to it that the mills
employ alternating shifts in order that
these dependents be permitted to avail
themselves of the advantages offered
by the part-time system. It may be
said to their everlasting credit that a
number of mills have adopted this
system and operate it at their own
expense.
The progress of the child in the night
classes or part-time school would neces-
sarily be slower than that of the child
privileged to enjoy the uninterrupted
school term. The opportunity for
ultimately acquiring an education under
the advanced modern methods and
capable instructors usually employed
in these schools would at the same
time be far greater than that of
many of our great men who, self-
taught, acquired their learning by the
uncertain illumination of the tallow dip
after the day's work was over.
While Sky-Land Magazine deplores
that any child must be robbed of its
playtime and made to toil for its daily
bread in any line of work, at the same
time the fact cannot be side-stepped,
pitiless though it is, that sometimes
economic necessity does make it in-
cumbent upon children under twelve
years of age to make wholly or partially
their own support and sometimes the
support of others, nor are their efforts
confined to mills and factories by any
manner of means. By reference to Mr.
David Clark's address before the
N a t i on a 1 Child Labor Committee
reproduced in full in another column, it
will be seen — and the fact will come as a
surprise to many, and fact it is as the
figures are taken from the United
States Census on Occupation — that of
the 53,457 boys, between the ages of
10 and L3 years of age, engaged in
gainful occupations only 2,304 were to
be found in cotton mills in North Caro-
lina and of the 30,822 girls of the same
age engaged in gainful occupations
only 2,319 were found in cotton mills.
These figures prove that of the 84,279
children engaged in gainful occupations
only 4,623 or 1 out of 16 were employed
in cotton mills. And the singular fact
is that in the National Child Labor
Committee's crusade against "Child
slavery " their efforts are directed almost
wholly in behalf of those employed in
cotton mills and factories while children
engaged at hard labor in other occupa-
tions go practically unnoticed
In waging warfare on mill and factory
the National Child Labor Committee
would do well to turn its attention to
the Federal Census and try to locate
the majority of children who toil in
gainful occupations outside mill and
factory, and divide its efforts between
the Western Union, the Postal, the
newspaper offices, laundries, farms,
dressmaking and millinery establish-
ments, grocery and department stores,
dairies and other occupations where
women and children are employed.
That 84,279 children are engaged in
gainful occupations is conclusive evi-
dence that economic necessity must be
largely responsible for the fact, and the
startling revelation made in the Com-
missioner's Report for 1913 that there
were then one hundred and seventy-
three thousand eight hundred souls in
North Carolina "dependent" upon mills
and factories for a livelihood, one
hundred and fifty thousand of the num-
ber being dependent upon cotton mills
alone helps to confirm the assertion.
There are thousands of boys and girls
in North Carolina above twelve years of
age working in mills and various occu-
pations and since the Father of bounty
in His all-wise providence has seen fit
SDY-LAND MAGAZINE
21
to withhold the material blessings from
these unfortunates and continues to
permit them to toil for the necessities
of life, it must be right that they do so
however much one sympathizes with
their misfortune. Nor should one lose
sight of the fact that the mill, factory,
and sundry outside occupations provide
the means by which families may be
kept together and the domestic rela-
tionships preserved intact. On the
other hand were this merciful provision
for self-sustenance taken from them,
families would be torn asunder, new
almshouses and orphanages would have
to be built — the ones at present are
inadequate as it is. Where the husband
or father is dead or has deserted how
much more praiseworthy that the home
life bepreserved through the brave efforts
of a mother, asonor daughter or all three
than that the family be turned adrift
upon the State to become the objects of
fickle charity. Where economic neces-
sity demands it the Sky-Land Magazine
does not hesitate to endorse the working
of women and even children above the
age prescribed by law in the mills and
factories, for the work is lighter, de-
mands less education and training, and
commands as good or better wages than
other lines of work in which women and
children are engaged.
The boy who works in the mill scores
triumphantly over the one who works
at manual labor on the farm. The
latter ploughs and hoes in a broiling
sun, splits rails, crossties, fire wood,
grooms the horses, cleans out foul-smell-
ing cowsheds and stables, ofttimes in-
fected with vermin and germ-laden
flies, digs ditches and in so doing often
stands in mud and water over his
shoetops, comes in contact with danger-
ous upturned soils in malarial swamps
and is liable to the bite of the deadly
mosquito.
Economic policy dictates that the
mill and surrounding premises must be
kept clean and sanitary for the reason
that hundreds of souls are here congre-
gated and if unsanitary conditions were
permitted, pestilential disease would
break out, the ranks of workers would
become disorganized, the work delayed
and heavy financial loss and inconveni-
ence would be entailed, hence the neces-
sity of conserving the health of the
operatives by keeping the mill and sur-
roundings as clean and sanitary as
modern methods will permit. The mill
boy's duties are not nearly so heavy as
the farm boy's and the chance for con-
serving his physical health would appear
greater leaving out of consideration the
fact that the farm boy possibly gets a
larger supply of oxygen, although there
is no lack of pure air in the modern mill
with its high ceilings, numerous win-
dows, humidifiers and ventilators.
To the little girl who works on the
farm the endless up and down move-
ment of the dasher separating the
butter from the cream to the tune of
"Churn butter churn, come butter
come" — a part of the daily routine —
must grow as irksome as the monotonous
whirr of the mill machinery in the mill
girl's ear. The risk to her health is
greater as she runs through the wet
weeds chasing "pigs in the clover"
from their mischevious depredations.
Nor is stooping over the potato plant
extracting potato bugs therefrom or
picking cotton in a burning hot sun, or
bending the little back over the wash-
tub until the muscles are tense and sore
in the effort to make the grime disap-
pear from the shirt of the farmer father
or brother nearly as easy as "tending
the sides" in a well-regulated mill.
With all due apology for a personal
allusion, Sky-Land feels safe in saying
that there is not a mill woman in the
22
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
United States who works as hard or
observes as long hours as the editor of
Sky-Land Magazine who puts in usually
fourteen to sixteen working hours six
days in the week and seldom runs less
than ten to twelve. After contrasting
the scale of wages for female operatives
with the scant balance left after meet-
ing the enormous cost of operating the
magazine, the Sky-Land entertains a
shrewd suspicion that the majority of
skilled female operatives who save
their money have more to their credit
in the savings bank than has the editor
of the Sky-Land Magazine as the
result of her arduous labor. Is it any
matter for wonderment that the Sky-
Land Magazine feels somewhat ag-
grieved that no member of the National
Child Labor Committee has ever seen
fit to interfere in an effort to lighten
the labor or regulate the long hours
or increase the editor's earnings, when
so much thought and energy are ex-
pended to relieve the operative in the
mill?
Every occupation has its hardships
in greater or less degree and thinking
men and women cannot get past the
fact that where economic necessity
exists women and children must con-
tinue to toil for bread and endure their
share of hardships.
The National Child Labor Committee
claim that economic necessity for chil-
dren working can be abolished by rais-
ing the wage of the male operative.
This might apply to a certain percent-
age of operatives where there are
fathers and big brothers to fall back
upon, but how about the large number
of dependents composed largely of
widows, orphans, aged and helpless
men and women who have no father or
big brother to rely upon? And they
are numerous. Were these dependents
thrown out of employment ; their ex-
perience would doubtless be similar to
that of the Paterson silk mill operatives
when the new age limit law went into
effect and hundreds were thrown out
of work and were forced to appeal to
the city for bread. Throwing women
and children out of employment is a
serious matter and should entail some
provision for their future maintenance.
While the motive of the National Child
Labor Committee is praiseworthy its
plan of operation seems wholly illogical.
The work of the committee seems to
stop short right where it should begin
in that it fails to make adequate
provision for the future needs of the
women and children for whom it seeks
redress.
A theory which cannot be put in
practice is a worthless theory and counts
for naught. While it is again reiterated
that the motive back of the efforts of
the National Child Labor Committee is
praiseworthy, its theory will not work
in actual practice.
If the Committee would first arrange
for the future care and maintenence of
these dependents before it seeks to
bring about legislation to throw them
out of employment, and would cease to
narrow its work principally to the man-
ufacturing interests but would include
the vast majority of workers engaged in
various gainful occupations, then and
not until then will the Sky-Land Maga-
zine become its most ardent supporter,
for the Sky-Land Magazine believes in
the conservation of the best interests
of the woman and child worker and
fails to see wherein turning the vast
army of women and children workers
adrift upon the State without ample
provision for their future needs could be
construed as conserving their best in-
terests.
The relation of the National Child
Labor Committee to the woman and
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
23
child operative is somewiiat like that
of the sympathizing man who urged a
poverty-stricken friend, threatened with
the loss of his eyesight, to go to a famous
specialist who would guarantee a cure
for the sum of five thousand dollars. The
advice of the man was well-meant and
theoretically sound but wholly impracti-
cable of application. The afiflicted
friend had no earthly means of raising
five thousand dollars, the price of the
cure, nor did the friend provide it,
hence the advice was wasted and the
condition of the suflferer was not a whit
improved.
Paradoxical though it may sound, in
seeking to relieve the hardships of the
women and children in the mills and
factories the National Child Labor
Committee would add tenfold to their
hardships by throwing them out of
employment without first taking due
thought for the morrow and its needs.
Nothing can be accomplished for the
moral and spiritual welfare of a woman
or child crying for bread ; first the
wheaten loaf and then the spiritual
manna.
4^
Agitators and the Unemployed
A CITATION is an admirable thing
-^ ^ when the goal toward which ef-
forts is directed is a worthy one, and
based on good ethics. The history of
civilization shows that no great advance
has ever been made without agitation.
Agitation has preceded every advance
and forwarded it. On the other hand
there has been plenty of agitation which
was not based on broad, human, help-
ful principles, which consequently ac-
complished nothing beyond momentary
confusion.
Christ himself was an agitator, and
the assertion is made with all due
reverence. So was Robert Ingersoll.
Industrial agitation is an excellent
thing when the end to be achieved is
based on a sound social principle.
There are no thinking men or women
who do not desire the welfare of in-
dustrial employees and of the working
class. Yet much of the agitation at
present aroused in the name of the
workingman, and claiming to improve
working conditions, is utterly inade-
quate and futile because it disregards
the unyielding social principle of supply
and demand.
The agitators who are making a
business of arousing discontent among
the employees of mills and factories,
of inciting them to strikes and riots
while voicing extravagent demands,
disregard the fact that there are more
unemployed workingmen in the country
today than ever before, — workingmen
who are seeking employment, and suf-
fering because they can not obtain it.
If these agitators really had the welfare
of the working class at heart, they
would cease urging discontent upon
men in good positions, and turn their
efforts to finding or creating good
positions for the laborers who are now
unemployed. If they would agitate for
the employment of one hundred men
on half time where fifty men are now
employed on full time, they would give
immediate relief and benefit to the men
whose welfare they claim to have at
heart, and would take a definite step
forward toward a final solution of the
problem, whatever that final solution
may be.
If the energies and monies of the I.
W. W.'s were directed for labor, in-
stead of against capital, labor would
not be victimized by the unsound agi-
tation aroused in its name.
The agitators who seek to create
24
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
sentiment against child-labor in the
mills are equally blind to the inexorable
law of supply and demand. With a
picture of blighted childhood they
seek to overthrow a social principle.
Their agitation is as inadequate and
as futile as that of the I. W. W.'s, and
for the same underlying reason. To
eliminate child-labor from the mills, it
will first be necessary to eliminate the
necessity for children to work, to do
away with the need for young men and
women to be self supporting and to
support those dependent upon them.
It will be necessary to readjust the con-
ditions of supply and demand until
child-labor in the mills is eliminated
naturally, without inflicting suffering
and want among those now employed.
It would be unfair to the I. W. W.'s
and to the child-labor agitators not to
say that each has its ideal, and pre-
sents the remedy for new and better
conditions; in each case the remedy is so
ideal as to be impossible of realization
this side of Utopia. In concrete form
the cure of the I. W. W.'s is half-time,
double pay and a three-fourths voice in
all conferences with capital, at least
this is a mild interpretation of some of
the demands of its leaders, demands
emphasized with dynamite.
The cure of the child-labor agitators
is less radical, but no less impossible;
they suggest a return to the farm, and
picture the happy settlements on hil-
locks and bottom-land, where there will
be nothing for the children to do but
plough, feed the stock, haul water,
hew trees, chop wood, pull fodder, cook,
wash, milk the cow (if they are fortu-
nate enough to have one) and work
outdoors, warm or cold, dry or wet.
But in veneering this soul-racking pic-
ture with the gloss of idealism they fail
to make it geographically plain where
these happy hillocks and bottom-lands
lie. On the farms, as elsewhere, work is
difficult to obtain, and it is work less
sure and less well paid than work in the
mills. Even supposing that the mill
family wishes to return to the soil, and
has the money to pay for a small farm,
where is that farm to be had? A farm
not only beautiful, but from which a
living can be made? Abandoned farmis,
and farms too small or "poor" to pay
to cultivate are being gladly sold the
country over to large holders and syn-
dicates.
No agitation, even that based on the
best ethics and soundest principles,
can succeed without an ideal; but that
ideal, if it is to be realized in this world
must conform with human needs and
geographical limits. From all this
agitation one turns to the work of the
Federal government and notes with ap-
proval its quiet announcement that it
will establish a central clearing-house
for labor. What labor needs at this
hour is action for the benefit of its
unemployed, and not agitation in the
name of its workers.
CAROLINA.
By William Eyre Brierley
Carolina. Bright thy glory;
Song of poet, theme of story.
Grand thy mountains, looming high;
Swift thy rivers, rippling, flowing;
Blue thy waters as the sky;
Wide thy forests, heav'nward growing;
Sweet thy flowers o'er hill and dale;
Fair thy fame as lillies pale.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE 25
Carolina. Grand thy mountains,
From whose heights the crystal fountains,
Sparkling, dash to vales below.
Lofty Mitchell, proudly gleaming
In the golden sunset's glow;
Rugged ranges softly beaming
In the blush of morn, or night
With the purpled shades of night.
Carolina. Swift thy rivers.
On whose placid bosoms quiver
Myriad hues of light and shade —
O'er the rocks in joyance tumbling;
Rippling through the sheltered glade;
Through the narrow gorges rumbling;
Rushing, foaming, on they speed
Through the dewy, fertile mead.
Carolina. Blue thy waters.
Strong thy sons, and fair thy daughters —
Blue thy waters as the skies.
In their limpid depths reflected;
Strong thy sons — in council, wise.
By ill-fortune ne'er dejected;
Fair thy daughters as a star
Twinkling o'er the hills afar.
Carolina. Wide thy forests —
Verdant, healthful, fragrant forests;
Sturdy oak and graceful elm.
From whose restful shade re-echoes
Silver throated melodies;
Towering poplar, drooping willow;
Slender maple, lofty pine;
Fronded fern and clinging vine. ...
Carolina. Sweet thy flowers;
Odorous thy leafy bowers.
Rhododendron, rare of hue,
Clothes thy banks with floral splendor;
Roses, lillies, gentian blue;
Breathe a fragrance soft and tender; ,^ .
O'er thy fields, in Autumn, nod
Lutescent waves of goldenrod.
Carolina. Fair thy fame is.
White and pure as Springtime daisies
Scattered o'er they sunlit slopes.
"First at Bethel", Appomattox
Saw thy hosts, with vanquished hopes,
Last to leave the field of battle;
Then, with strife of armies' cease.
Foremost in the paths of peace.
Carolina. Bright thy glory;
Song of poet, theme of story.
Grand thy mountains, looming high;
Swift thy rivers, rippling, flowing;
Blue thy waters as the sky;
Wide thy forests, heav'nward growing;
Sweet thy flowers, o'er hill and dale;
Fair thy fame as lillies pale.
" Ideals are realized slowly, by long efforts, after many failures, and constant mistakes. To
reach ideals, we have to reach a higher social morality, an enlarged conception of human life, a more
human type of religious duty."
26
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
A CHANT OF HATE AGAINST ENGLAND
Rendered into English verse by Barbara Hen-
derson.
French and Russian, they matter not,
A blow for a blow and a shot for a shot;
We love them not, we hate them not,
We hold the Weichsel and Vosges-gate,
We have but one and only hate.
We love as one, we hate as one,
We have one foe and one alone.
He is known to you all, he is known to you all.
He crouches behind the dark gray flood,
Full of envy, of rage, of craft, of gall.
Cut off by waves that are thicker than blood.
Come let us stand at the Judgment place.
An oath to swear to, face to face.
An oath of bronze no wind can shake.
An oath for our sons and their sons to take.
Come, hear the word, repeat the word.
Throughout the Fatherland make it heard.
We will never forego our hate.
We have all but a single hate,
We love as one, we hate as one.
We have one foe and one alone —
ENGLAND!
In the Captain's Mess, in the banquet-hall,
Sat feasting the officers, one and all,
Like a sabre-blow, like the swing of a sail,
One seized his glass held high to hail;
Sharp-snapped like the stroke of a rudder's play,
Spoke three words only: "To the Day!"
Whose glass this fate?
They had all but a single hate.
Who was thus known?
They had one foe and one alone —
ENGLAND!
Take you the folk of the Earth in pay.
With bars of gold your ramparts lay.
Bedeck the ocean with bow on bow.
Ye reckon well, but not well enough now,
French and Russian they matter not,
A blow for a blow, a shot for a shot,
We fight the battle with bronze and steel,
And the time that is coming Peace will seal.
You will we hate with a lasting hate.
We will never forego our hate,
Hate by water and hate by land.
Hate of the head and hate of the hand.
Hate of the hammer and hate of the crown.
Hate of seventy millions, choking down.
We love as one, we hate as one,
We have one foe and one alone —
ENGLAND!
HASSGESANG GEGEN ENGLAND
Von Ernst Lissauer
Was schiert uns Russ und Franzos?
Schuss wider Schuss und Stoss um Stoss,
Wir lieben sie nicht,
Wir hassen sie nicht,
Wir schutzen Weichsel und Wasgaupass, —
Wir haben nur einen einzigen Hass,
Wir lieben vereint, wir hassen vereint,
Wir haben nur einen einzigen Feind: —
Den ihr alle wisst, den ihr alle wisst.
Er sitzt geduckt hinter der grauen Flut,
VoU Neid, voll Wut, voll Schlaue, yoll List,
Durch Wasser getrennt, die sind dicker als Blut.
Wir wollen treten in ein Gericht,
Einen Schwur zu schworen, Gesicht in Gesicht,
Einen Schwur von Erz, den verblast kein Wind,
Einen Schwur fur Kind und fur Kindeskind,
Vernehmt das Wort, sagt nach das Wort,
Es walze sich durch ganz Deutschland fort:
Wir wollen nicht lassen von unserem Hass,
Wir haben alle nur einen Hass,
Wir lieben vereint, wir hassen vereint,
Wir haben alle nur einen Feind:
ENGLAND.
In der Bordkajute, im Feiersaal,
Sassen Schiffsoffiziere beim Liebesmahl, —
Wie ein Sabelhieb, wie ein Segelschwung,
Finer riss grussend empor den Trunk,
Knapp hinknallend wie Ruderschlag,
Drei Worte sprach er: "Auf den Tag!"
Wem gait das Glas?
Sie hatten alle nur einen Hass.
Wer war gemeint?
Sie hatten alle nur einen Feind:
ENGLAND.
Nimm du die Volker der Erde in Sold,
Baue Walle aus Barren von Gold,
Bedecke die Meerflut mit Bug bei Bug,
Du rechnetest klug, doch nicht klug genug.
Was schiert uns Russ und Franzos!
Schuss wider Schuss und Stoss um Stoss.
Wir Kampfen den Kampf mit Bronze und Stahl
Und schliessen Frieden irgend einmal;
Dich werden wir hassen mit langem Hass,
Wir werden nicht lassen von unserem Hass;
Hass zu W'asser und Hass zu Land,
Hass des Hauptes und Hass der Hand,
Hass der Hammer und Hass der Kronen,
Drosselnder Hass von siebzig Millionen,
Sie lieben vereint ,sie hassen vereint,
Wir haben alle nur einen Feind:
ENGLAND.
^
A REMARKABLE TRANSLATION
(Contributed)
HPHE striking poem, "Hassgesang
-'- gegen England," by Ernst Lis-
sauer, made world-famous by the re-
markable translation into English of
Barbara Henderson, has a most inter-
esting history. The poem was written
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
27
by Ernst Lissauer, a trooper under the
command of Crown Prince Rupprecht,
of Bavaria, at the outbreak of the
European war. It appeared originally
in the Generalanzeiger, a newspaper of
Dusseldorf, Germany. The poem, in
the original version, came to Fraulein
Thekla Dathe, of Dusseldorf, a German
lady living in the home of Dr. and Mrs.
Henderson. The poem made a pro-
found impression upon Dr. and Mrs.
Henderson. Under the title, "War-
Songs of the Belligerents", Dr. Hender-
son wrote a letter to the New York
Times, to accompany the translation of
the poem made by his wife, Barbara
Henderson. This letter, together with
the translation, a rendering singularly
close to the original in phraseology and
spirit, appeared in the New York
Times of October 15, 1914.
The appearance of the poem immedi-
ately evoked a number of replies in the
Times — "A Chant of Hate against
Germany," by Beatrice M. Barry;
"Another Chant of Hate" by Rosalie
M. Moynahan; and "A Chant of
Motherhood" by Van Landburgh Wil-
son.
No sooner did copies of the New-
York Times, containing Mrs. Hender-
son's translation, reach England than
the poem spread like wild-fire from one
end of the British Isles to the other.
On October 28, Mrs. Henderson's great
translation appeared in the London
Daily Mail.; on October 29, it was pub-
lished in full in The London Times, ac-
companied b\' a long editorial. The
translation was described as a re-
markable piece of work; and the
Times editorial reproduced the ideas
contained in Dr. Henderson's original
letter to The New York Times. Under
the caption, "A Hymn of Hate," the
editor of The London Times (Oct. 29,
1914) says in part:
"The war has produced many verses
and some poetry, but the remarkable
stanzas we quote this morning are the
most passionate utterance that has yet
appeared. . . . We do not know how
much they owe to the American lady
who translated them from the German
original for the New York Times, but
she is to be congratulated on a piece of
extraordinarily good work in one of the
most difficult of arts. The lines have a
fine, natural swing, and the language
glows with the fire of intense sincerity."
Since that time, Mrs. Henderson's
great translation has been published
broadcast throughout the world —
throughout Great Britain, in the lead-
ing countries of Europe, and even in
far-off Japan. At the request of numer-
ous readers, the translation was repro-
duced in the leading London and pro-
vincial newspapers, sometimes more
than once in the same journal. The
vogue of Mrs. Henderson's translation
has been colossal, far outranking in
popular and international interest Rud-
yard Kipling's "Absent-Minded Beg-
gar" published during the Boer War.
The translation has appeared in the
leading newspapers of the United States;
and in leading magazines of the country,
notably in The Outlook, The Inde-
pendent, and The Bookman. A reply
to the poem has just appeared in the
Atlantic Monthly.
Distinguished literary critics have
expressed the opinion that Mrs. Hen-
derson's translation, in virile strength,
force and driving power, is markedly
superior to the German original.
Sky-Land has the honor of being the
first and only publication in English-
speaking countries to reproduce the
original German version alongside of
Mrs. Henderson's great translation, in
the present issue. " ■
28
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
FOUR MEN AND A NYMPH
IN PISGAH FOREST
^
(By Hilliard Booth)
TO BEGIN with, the Nymph was at
home. It was her forest. There-
fore when she came face to face with the
irate man she stood her ground. A
briUiantly-plumed pheasant rested on
her shoulder, a fawn stood at her side.
She seemed altogether a pleasant pic-
ture— but not to the iiian. Ilis face
grew red with indignation. He turned
and called over his shoulder.
"Hi, fellers — here she is — come on,
and heave a rock!" He picked up a
stone and raised it in air to hurl at the
startled nymph, as two other men ap-
peared on the run, one with a shotgun,
and one with the gleam of angry out-
rage in his eyes. The pheasant took
flight, the fawn disappeared into a
thicket, and the Nymph was saved from
the fury of the three men by the appear-
ance of a fourth, who seized the up-
raised arm of the first man, and bitterly
protested against this treatment of the
Nymph.
"No tree-cutting — !"
"No hunting! — "
"No taxes — !"
"Prosperity for posterity — !"
In the altercation that ensued, the
Nymph slipped from sight.
Wait a minute, please. This is not
an Anna Katherine Green mystery story;
we will reveal the identity of our hero,
heroine, and villians at once. The first
man is a lumberman, the second a
mountaineer, the third a county tax
collector, and the fourth a public-spir-
ited citizen. And the Nymph — the
Nymph is Conservation.
Do not jump to the conclusion that
the rest of this story will be deadly dull.
Remember, the liveliest moving-picture
plays are always preceded by the legend
"Approved by The Board of Censor-
ship."
"As I was remarking," said the hero,
"posterity will benefit by — "
"What has posterity ever done for
me?" demanded the lumberman, hotly.
"Oh, I'm resigned to the situation." He
wrenched himself free from the grasp
of the public-spirited citizen. "All I
want to do is to give the Nymph a piece
of my mind." He darted off into the
woods, the rock still clutched in his
grasp.
"That was my pheasant and my
fawn," complained the mountaineer;
"with a little argument, I reckon she'll
give 'em up to me." He slipped a
cartridge in his gun, and took the op-
posite direction in search of the Nymph.
"She's deprived me of my rightful
money," declared the county tax collec-
tor, and parting the branches of two
laurel trees he disappeared briskly in
pursuit of the Nymph.
"Jt's up to me to help them look after
their own interests," sighed the public-
spirited citizen. Their-own-interests
was what he called the Nymph. He
stooped down to straighten a sapling
SDY-LAND MAGAZINE
29
heedlessly bent in the heat of the dis-
pute, and followed in the well-blazed
trail of the lumberman.
The Nymph took refuge in a log
cabin, erected in a dense growth of rho-
dodendron, and closed the door.
"I'm twenty-five years old," she mur-,
mured," "and I ought to be able to look
after myself, but there are moments
when — "
Her soliloquy was cut short by a crash
on the cabin roof, followed by the rat-
tling of a stone as it rolled from the roof
to the ground.
"Hi, come out!" called the voice of the
lumberman.
The Nymph peered cautiously from
the window.
"Leave that spruce alone!" she ex-
claimed brusquely; "it's less than twelve
inches in diameter."
"Huh! Here you have nearly eighty-
30
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
seven thousand acres of trees, and object
to my cutting one little spruce! I sup-
pose I'm expected to carry a measuring-
rule around with me." The lumberman
scoffed as he playfully hacked at the
young tree with a pocket-ax.
"But for men like you with inaccurate
vision." returned the Nymph, "our na-
tional problem in forestry would be
solved."
"Our national problem in forestry will
be solved," declared the lumberman,
"when you, and your kith and kin, the
forest faddists and cranks, are driven
out of the woodlands, and we lumber-
men allowed to cut stands clear and
clean. Think of the hundreds, the thou-
sands of people to whom we supply
timber for homes. It's only right we
should have a fair profit."
"So you're a philanthropist?"
"Me — I? Not at all."
"Surely you and your fellows have a
contract to cut the merchantable timber
on four-fifths of my tract?"
"Yes; a contract calling for all sorts
of foolish and unprofitable restrictions."
"No cutting of the hardwoods under
sixteen inches diameter at the stump."
chanted the Nymph; "spruce at twelve
inches. Care must be taken not to injure
young growth or the timber left stand-
ing. Fire must be rigidly kept out, and
roads and trails must — "
"What's all this got to do with my
being a philanthropist?"
" If these restrictions are unprofitable,
surely you must be losing money under
your contract, and therefore are a phil-
anthropist, because you supply hundreds
thousands of people with homes at a
loss to yourself."
" I never said I worked at a loss. I'm
a business man, not a visionary like you.
I wouldn't be cutting timber if I wasn't
making money."
"Then why all this objection to a
few simple and reasonable rules?"
"A woman never can argue!" The
lumberman gave a snort.
"I ask you — 'What's the sense of it?'
And you answer by calling me names.
The sense is in having timber a hun-
dred years from now, two hundred years
from now, to supply hundreds, thous-
ands of other people with homes."
"What are those people to me?"
"Just what you were to your fore-
fathers. Suppose your forefathers had
cleared off the forests for profit; where
would you be?"
"Really, madam, it's foolish to waste
words with you. A hundred years from
now we'll both be dead, and — "
" Pardon me," interrupted the Nymph
"but I shan't be dead; I shall be doing
nicely, thank you."
The lumberman regarded the Nymph
with a new respect.
"As I was saying," continued the
Nymph, "you must keep the roads and
trails open for the use of others."
"Now what's the sense of that?"
"The seventy-five miles of grade
roads, the one-hundred and sixty-five
miles of graded trails already on this
tract," explained the Nymph, "makes it
accessible to the public, and with new
roads built thousands of people will
come to enjoy the forest as a great
Park.?"
"Hang it all, what do I care about
those people?"
"They're the same people for whom
you are solicitous to build homes."
"It's a wate of time to talk with
you!" The lumberman's guttural tones
only half concealed his wrathful feelings.
"In a nutshell, forestry is a fad, and a
detriment to business; and that's all
there is about it!"
" In the words of the man who opened
this tract to me," said the Nymph, "it's
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
31
good citizenship. * No man is a good
citizen who destroys for selfish ends a
growing forest'!"
''Is that so?" The lumberman
scratched his head in the effort to follow
up this brilliant bit of refutation with
something that would confound the
Nymph without injuring his own repu-
tation as a good citizen, when his cogita-
tion was cut short — a really fortunate
interruption, or he might still be cogi-
tating— by the roar of a shotgun, and
the plinkety-plink of buckshot dancing
on the roof of the Nymph's abode.
"Just a moment!" said the Nymph,
as she hastily closed the window.
"Hi!" said the lumberman; "you've
riddled my hat."
"What yuh git in my way fer?" The
mountaineer stepped into view, ejecting
a shell from his gun. "I almost winged
her."
32
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
"Your way?" The lumberman
laughed hoarsely. "This is my way."
He seized the mountaineer's weapon,
wrenched it from his hand, and hurled
it against a tree, as the mountaineer
obtained possession of the lumberman's
ax, and sent it flying into the chortling
waters of a nearby stream.
"When thieves fall out" — murmured
a voice.
"You're both near-sighted," sighed
the Nymph.
"My eyes air good enough ter see
your finish!" The mountaineer picked
up his shotgun: the breech was jammed.
"Talk is useless," cried the lumber-
man loftily. "Hereafter, I shall be mag-
nanimous, and humor the lady." He
turned abruptly on his heel. It's the
best way."
The two turned to see the Nymph re-
garding them from the doorway of the
cabin. In her hand she grasped a small
picture, framed in birchbark. She held
it up for them to view.
"What do you see?" she asked.
"Lost profits and needless trouble,"
said the lumberman.
"Injustice and spies," said the moun-
taineer.
"The only way," corrected the
Nymph.
The lumberman did not hear her: he
had already hurried off.
"Whar's my fawn an' my pheasant?"
demanded the mountaineer.
"They are not yours," replied the
Nymph; "and I shall protect them from
you. If I allowed everyone to hunt on
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
33
my tract, the game would soon be ex-
terminated."
"Ain't askin' yuh ter allow everyone
ter hunt; jest me."
"Why should I make an exception of
you?"
"'Cause this here forest belonged to
me afore it did ter yuh. I was born here
an' you're keepin' me from my natural
rights. I won't stand fer it."
"But if I didn't prevent you from
hunting, the game would soon be gone."
"Well, whut's got ter be's, got ter be!"
"In that case, reconcile yourself to
my presence."
"Why fore?"
"'Cause — in or out of the vernacular
— I sure got ter be."
"If it wa'ant fer spies — " the moun-
taineer moved toward the Nymph mena-
cingly.
" My spies?"
"Yes. The spies yuh keep ter watch
me."
"Excuse me, the men you refer to are
forest-rangers, and are employed to
watch the forest for the purpose of keep-
ing out fires."
"That's whut yuh say, but we-uns
knows they're spies, a-spyin' on us jest
the same."
"You're mistaken, my good man.
The trees must be preserved as well as
the game."
"Whut's the use of preservin' game,
if no one's goin' ter kill it?"
"To insure its life."
"Huh!"
"You'll get used to the idea."
"Not much I will."
"You got used to the idea of fencing
your fields."
"I reckon I had ter: I got tired of
payin' fines."
"That was your first lesson in good
citizenship; this will be your second."
"Say, whut d'yuh call yourself?"
"Conservation."
"Well, I'm plain Babtist, an' I don't
stand fer none of these new-fangled re-
ligions; so thar's an end of the matter."
"No man is a good citizen who kills
game regardless of the law."
"No law's a good law that keeps us
from huntin'. All right, ma'am, I won't
argify. Out of respect fer your tarnation
spies, I'll keep ofif'n your tract as best as
maybe.
"By keeping off you will be a good
citizen in the making."
"By heck! you're obtsinate! No one
don't slur my good citizenship. I am a
good citizen ; no better citizen was ever
citizenized. Why, I tell yuh — "
"Have you paid your road tax?" The
voice came from the depths of the forest.
Before the county tax collector stepped
into view, the mountaineer, had disap-
peared silently and hastily into the tree
shadows.
The Nymph smiled. She held up the
rustic-framed picture before the eyes of
the county tax collector.
"What do you see?"
"Robbery! Poverty! Four thousand
dollars a year gone! And your tract
runs into four counties; four times four
thousand is — "
"You, too, are near-sighted," sighed
the Nymph. "As a matter of business,
however, the five per cent of my gross
profits to which you are entitled for your
roads, and the five per cent to which you
are entitled for your schools — "
"Does not equal the lost taxes!" con-
cluded the county tax collector.
" Not this year."
"Nor next."
"Possibly not."
"Nor next, nor next, nor next, n'r
next, n' — "
"Don't excite yourself," interrupted
the Nymph; "the real return to the
County will come indirectly, and sooner
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
than you believe. Roads and trails
make the beauties of the forest acces-
sible, inns and camps will be built to care
for the people who will come from all
over the country to see and enjoy the
beauties of your National Park. Your
county will prosper accordingly."
"I wish I could see it."
"I wonder if you mean that." The
Nymph eyed the other speculatively.
"Oh, I'm sincere."
"Then suppose we give each other the
benefit of our doubts."
The man shook his head dubiously.
"If it wasn't for that ugly picture in
your hand — " he said.
"What a beautiful picture!" exclaimed
the public-spirited citizen as he hurried
up, breathless. "You're quite safe?"
This to the Nymph.
"Quite, thank you. I shall soon turn
militant, and be able to take good care
of myself."
"Beautiful?" The county tax col-
lector turned on the new arrival, irri-
tated. "What do you see about it that's
beautiful?"
"The healthy re-stocked forest, the
splendid game, the fish flashing in the
streams, the auto roads, the neat houses,
the unmarred waterfalls, glens, canyons;
the birds, the flowers — "
"Do you really see all that?" inter-
rupted the county tax collector.
"Why there's nothing else to see, is
there?" The public-spirited citizen
turned on him in surprise.
"Good day!" The county tax col-
lector lifted his hat, and moved thought-
fully away. He felt that he was de trop.
"You see the picture aright," said the
Nymph. "Always changing, it will
never be the same. Not for one, but for
all; not for now, but for always — "
She paused; there was a faraway look
in her eyes; a great peace seemed to
settle down upon the forest.
And she lived happily ever after-
wards.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
35
THE MAN WHO SAW LINCOLN
ASSASSINATED
By Walter H. Chandler
TTOLLIS LORENZO CHUBBOCK
-*- -*- was sitting fourth from the lower
right-hand box, well up to the front, on
that eventful night. Mr. Lincoln was
sitting in the left box, in full view of
the man who is still living to tell the
graphic story.
Mr. Chubbock, on the twenty-third of
next August, will be seventy-six years
old. He was born in 1838, on a farm in
Orwell Township, Bradford County, Pa.,
at a point which would be the third one
of a triangle formed by it and Rome and
Orwell Hill, both small towns. In the
winter time, before leaving the farm, he
taught school in the surrounding coun-
try, for which he received fifteen dollars
a month.
He lacked from April to August of be-
ing twenty-eight years old on the night
of the assassination. Bearing the weight
of his years quite well, Chubbock is at
this time an assistant officer of the Sand
Springs Park. He is also a deputy
sheriff of Tulsa County, Okla., having
held that position under both terms of
sheriff William McCullough. For the
summer season, he resides in a comfor-
tably located tent adjacent to the park,
and has it as comfortably arranged as
are any of the numerous tents which are
pitched in that vicinity during the sum-
mer months by persons who are fleeing
from the heat of the city.
"At the time that President Lincoln
was assassinated," said Mr. Chubbock
the other day in relating the incident,
"I was working in the Agricultural De-
partment in Washington, and was lodg-
ing at the Model House, on ninth street.
Isaac Newton was then Commissioner of
Agriculture. Owing to the fact that most
of the actors in those days would visit
the Agricultural Department, there were
not many times when I was without
complimentary tickets to the show.
"There was a man by the name of
James Ferguson living in Washington
then, with whom I was well acquainted.
In fact, we were the best of friends.
It chanced to be that Ferguson was run-
ning a saloon in the building adjoining
Ford's Opera house. On the eighteenth
day of April, 1865, the day the President
was shot, Ferguson had asked me to go
to Ford's with him that night. He said
the President would be there. However,
seeing President Lincoln at the theater,
or any other place, for that matter, had
long ceased to be a matter of curiosity
for me. I saw him often, and knev/
him both before he was President as well
as afterward. Finally, for the purpose
of accompanying a lady relative of
Ferguson's I accepted the invitation to
attend the show on that night.
"Late that afternoon, I was standing
talking to Ferguson in front of his place
of business, when Wilkes Booth rode up
on horseback. He knew Ferguson well,
and I was introduced to Booth. After
the actor had asked us what we thought
of his steed, he invited us to take a drink
with him. Booth was an excellent type
of manhood, nattily dressed, and fine
looking. He was riding a fine filly, of
Virginia stock, one of the most beautiful
specimens of horseflesh I believe I ever
saw.
"The animal was left in charge of a
36
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
fourth person, and Ferguson, Booth, and
I went into the saloon, where we stayed
and chatted for ten or fifteen minutes.
On coming out, Booth got on his horse
and rode away, and I went to the Model
House to eat, and prepare to attend the
show.
"At the show, the party of four of
which I was one, sat well down in front
on the right-hand side of the house. I
was on the extreme left, and four seats
from the right side box. The President's
box was on the left side, and in plain
view. It was liberally draped with
flags.
"During the shifting of the scenery,
Ferguson glanced back toward the en-
trance, looked over at me, and said:
'There goes Booth, over yonder. I won-
der where he can be going?' I replied
that I was sure I did not know, but
looked and saw him enter the rear of
Mr. Lincoln's box. It was just a second
or two until the report of the pistol
shot rang through the theater. Fergu-
son cried out, 'My God! Booth has shot
the President. '
"For the slightest period of time, be-
fore the echo of the shot had scarce died
away, there was no demonstration on
the part of the persons in the theater.
In that short interval. Booth passed in
front of the dying President, stepped
upon the railing of the box, and made
a jump for the stage. His foot did not
clear the long strip of flag-design hang-
ing on the front of the box, however, and
he landed heavily on the stage, but he
did not fall. Yet he showed an extreme
limp as he escaped out the wing.
"By that time everyone in the theater
were on their feet, and were crying to
not let the man who did the shooting get
away. I have never seen a crowd so
excited. Every seat in the house was
full, and it seemed that all made a break
for the outside at once.
"Ferguson and I took the ladies to a
place of securtiy in an upstairs room of
the theater, and then went into his
saloon. It was filled with men, howling
for the blood of the man who shot Lin-
coln; and there was a great display of
rifles and pistols. None of them seemed
to know who did the shooting, and many
of them expected to find the man who
did it in the saloon evidently, from the
way they were searching about the place.
Ferguson quickly mounted to the bar,
and told the crowd that it was Wilkes
Booth who did the shooting, that he was
not in the saloon, but that he had made
his escape on horseback.
"About that time, the police came
into the saloon, drove everyone out, and
saw that the place was securely fastened.
The President was carried across the
street and placed in a building there,
and a little later on, Ferguson and I
were called into the building to testify
as to who did the shooting, and all we
knew about it. On account of Fergu-
son's acquaintance with Booth, he and
I were first ordered to be locked up, to
make sure that we would be on hand
at the trial of Booth should he be cap-
tured; but upon members of the Agri-
cultural Department vouching for both
of us, we were not placed under guard.
"That night there were soldiers on
every street in the city of Washington.
It was impossible to walk along the
streets and not be accosted by either the
soldiers or the police, and no one was
allowed to go his way without first hav-
ing given an account of himself for the
night.
"At that time, I was rooming with a
fellow who ran a tugboat up and down
the Potomac River. I can't quite re-
member his name at this time. One
night he came in rather late, and woke
me up. He told me that he had brought
the body of Wilkes Booth to Washing-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
37
ton on his boat. I asked him what was
done with it. 'Well', he said, 'they took
it to the prison in the navy yard, tore
up the floor of the cell, and buried it
below.' In a day or two, he took me
down to the navy yard, and showed me a
cell where there were some boards stand-
ing up against the windows on the inside.
'That's the cell beneath which they
buried Booth,' he told me; and I have
every reason to believe what he said."
Mr. Chubbock does not place any
credence in the stories that from time to
time gain circulation that Wilkes Booth
is still living, or that he has recently
died. Such a story has often gone the
rounds in Oklahoma, and a few years
ago it was reported that the body of
Booth was lying in an undertaking estab-
lishment in the city of Enid, Okla.
"At that time," said Mr. Chubbock,
"it was reported that I had gone to Enid,
and had identified the body as that of
Wilkes Booth. I was requested to go,
but I didn't because I have always felt
satisfied that my room-mate was telling
me the truth when he said he had
brought the body of Booth down the
Potomac, and that it was buried in the
prison in the navy yard in Washington.
"Later on during the trial of the con-
spirators against the President, I attend-
ed the trial every day, and from all I
heard of the trial, and from all I read of
it in the newspapers, I do not think that
Mrs. Surratt was dealt with fairly when
she was hanged for having entered into
the conspiracy. The only thing to show
her connection with this was the fact
that the others had made their head-
quarters at her house while the plot was
going on; and even at that, there was no
proof that she knew the life of Lincoln
was being plotted against, and it was
generally acknowledged that she be-
lieved the President was only to be kid-
napped. I firmly believe that if the trial
of the conspirators had not followed so
closely after their arrest, and if the hot
sentiment and excitement had been al-
lowed to cool down a bit, that this
woman never would have been hanged."
According to Mr. Chubbuck, the part-
ing of Mrs. Suratt and her daughter in
the gallows yard on the day of the hang-
ing, was the most pitiful scene he has
ever witnessed. Even forty-eight years
after having seen it, the old gentleman
was visibly affected.
The old caretaker of Sand Springs
was quite an intimate acquaintance of
the martyred President, and had often
conversed with him.
"Lincoln was a great and good man,"
he said, "he was the kind of a man who
would recognize an acquaintance if
dressed in the best clothes, or if carrying
a hod. Several times while I was in the
Agricultural Department, it fell to my
lot to take presents to the President. I
remember distinctly having once taken
a tub of butter up to the White House
for Mr. Lincoln. I delivered it to the
caterer, but Mr. Lincoln learned of it
quickly, and called to me before I got
off the grounds and chatted with me. At
another time I saw the President and the
Secretary of War standing at the curb-
ing at Pennsylvania Avenue and Four-
teenth Street. I attempted to pass back
of them without stopping. The Presi-
dent chanced to spy me, and he called
to me. I went over and talked with him
and the Secretary for a few moments,
and as I was leaving Mr. Lincoln said:
" 'Now don't try to slip by me any
more. '
The old man sighed, crossed over to
one of the little rustic tea-houses in the
park near the playgrounds for the chil-
dren, and seated himself apart, his eyes
on the youngsters as they climbed into
the swing or splashed water from the
wading pond, his thoughts in the past.
38
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE CAROLINA SANDHILLS.
(Bion H. Butler.)
A SECTION of North Carolina that
has been overlooked by most
people or recognized only to condemn
it is that miniature mountain region
known as the Sandhills. About thirty
years ago John T. Patrick, of Wades-
boro, Jonathan E. Buchan, of Manly,
and some others, set on foot a move-
ment to bring the bad lands into public
notice, and the change that has taken
place is one of the remarkable reversals
of public opinion.
In order to bar any charge that I am
a prejudiced witness I may as well
announce that I am a mountaineer by
birth, coming from almost the summit
of the Alleghenies, the divide being not
more than two or three miles from our
lumber camps. I am a mountaineer by
training, having lived a mile or much
more above sea level. I have climbed
the Alleghenies and the Blue Ridge from
the Mohawk river to where the chain
flattens out in Georgia, the Adirondacks,
the Rockies, the Sierras, the Caucausus
of Southern Russia, the Balkans, and
I know mountains, I would not live or
die in a flat country where they did not
have enough material to heap a little
of it up in piles. So, having qualified
as a witness not partisan against the
mountain I will go on with the story.
Mr. Patrick proposed to build a com-
munity in the Sandhills, and he in-
vited people to visit the narrow strip
of land along the Seaboard railroad in
Moore county, which is about the most
typical of the sandhill land. A few
answered his call. Then commenced a
series of explanations. The accepted
idea seemed to be that when creation
was finished a certain amount of waste
was left, and it was dumped in the
neighborhood where Mr. Patrick pro-
posed to colonize people. We all
laughed at the Sandhills on the first
visit, but at the same time there was a
certain fascination in the soft air, and
in the green pines, and the clear streams
and the open forests, and the dry sandy
soil, and the gently rolling hills, and the
romantic drives, and the stranger who
stayed a few days wanted to stay
longer or come again. We always doubt
anything new. Then we get acquainted
with it and probably go crazy over it.
Well, it was that way with this Sand-
hill country as far as I am concerned.
I left Pennsylvania one winter morning
with the thermometer at twenty below.
We put in the first day getting to Har-
risburg where drifts held us up until
the next morning. It took until night
again to get to Weldon, and there we
were out of the snow. We reached the
Sandhills at night. The next morning
was a perfect North Carolina exhibit of
mild sunshine. We stayed two weeks
and rode over the sand hills and picked
arbutus, and saw the peach trees in
blossom, and then went back north to
find the water pipes frozen, more zero
weather, and snow for weeks yet. The
week we returned we bought 250 acres
of room in the sunshine belt, and paid
two dollars an acre for it.
Unless you have some day left the
Pennsylvania winter zone and the next
day reached the paradise of the North
Carolina Sandhills you do not know all
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
39
of the pleasant surprises that a man
may encounter. Having seen the agree-
able climate it was impossible to stay
away from it in cold weather so we
began to migrate with the birds, bring-
ing the brood. Then it became apparent
that having found a good thing there
was no use to leave it at certain seasons
to go back to the polar region to stay
most of the time. Se we tied the legs
of the chickens together, and nailed
the cat up with the china ware and put
the carpets around the mirrors and set
out for the land where we might keep
warm all the year round.
To me perhaps the greatest mystery
would be that eight million people stay
in Pennsylvania when they might as
well be in North Carolina. But I
know that most of them do not realize
the big difference, and that some of
them are financially unable to make the
change.
We came and settled down, and what
a development has followed in the last
twelve years. We built our house in
the forest. We saw neighbors perhaps
once a week or maybe not so often.
Now clay roads, telephones, automiboles
and people are everywhere. Then we
were twenty miles from Raeford through
the woods, only four houses as I recall
on the way. Now we can go to Raeford
by three different clay roads, and on
one road the only considerable bit of
forest along the line is opening up to
make farms the entire distance. The
spirit of development has run wild over
the Sandhills, and money and people are
pouring in and changing the entire face
of the country.
Gradually we began to get acquainted
with the Sandhills. Then we found
that we had discovered the Delectable
mountains. Then I found that as be-
tween a big mountain and a little
mountain there is only one difference.
It is the difference of distance. A big
mountain is a little mountain exagger-
ated. A big valley is a little valley on a
different scale.
Before we go any farther about these
Sandhill miniature mountains I am
going to tell you what the Sandhills
really are. This section of the United
States is at once the oldest and the
newest work of creation. In the early
days of the earth, away back before
traces of life had been laid down in
the fossils of the rocks, apparently be-
fore sun and rain and wind had stirred
the soil into production, and before the
crude vegetable or animal forms had
taken shape, the surface of the earth
was marked by the presence of the hard
rocks the geologists call crystalline,
which are the fundamental or under-
lying rock strata deepest in the ground.
Above those rocks have been formed
all of the later deposits which contain
the limestones, the coal, the oil, the
clay veins, and the stratified rocks of
any character whatsoever. The eleva-
tion of the mountains of Western
North Carolina seems to have sloped
the eastern part of the state into the
sea, and on the basic rocks if any other
formation was laid down it was worn
away by the sea. For ages this rocky
original floor persisted, and then it
gradually raised above the water, as it
rose it held the deposits of sand and
gravel washed down from the moun-
tains by the streams until the rock was
covered with the wash. The sea sub-
sided, leaving the sand, which has been
worn and cut by rains and streams and
weather, until a fringe of little moun-
tains from two to five hundred feet
above the sea, line the foothills of the
real mountains with a strip of land
about twenty to forty miles wide
through Lee, Moore, Richmond and
Scotland counties. These mountains
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
are little mountains, built chiefly of
sand and clay, here and there a layer of
rocks where the sand and clay have
hardened into real rock, here and there
pebbles and cobbles from the still un-
pulverized fragments that washed down
from the mountains ages ago, here and
there the imperfect small stones formed
by the cementation together of sand,
iron and clay.
Being comparatively loose soil the
rains and the streams have carved val-
leys among the hills, just as in the
western part of the state the action of
the storms and forces of ages have carved
canyons and gorges and great valleys in
the harder rocks of the giant mountains
that are the result of the gigantic tasks
of erosion. The Sandhills mountains
are little mountains but they are the
perfect imitation of the big mountains.
Do you know that to get an idea of
distance you must have a measure?
To look in the sky you can not say that
the sun is farther away than the moon,
but measures tell that it is. You can
not tell by looking at the clouds whether
they are fifty feet high or a mile. The
snow-capped summits of Mt. Shasta in
California, viewed from the valleys in
Tehama county look to be five or ten
or fifteen miles away, and are seventy-
five. The world from the summits of
the continental divide in Colorado,
nearly two and a half miles in the air,
seems at your feet, and but a short
distance away. But you can see for an
indefinite distance, a hundred miles
being a short range. How can you
estimate distance? Only by comparison,
which is how we compare our little
mountains in the Sandhills by the big
mountains everywhere.
Scenery becomes picturesque as you
have a vantage point from which to
view it. At a summit in the Sandhills,
where the headwaters of the Cape Fear
and of the Lumber river break off from
opposite sides of the same ridge, where
the valley opens out on either side until
you seem to be able almost to look
down the long tortuous road the waters
follow to the sea, you can easily imagine
you are on a summit in the Appalachians
with their tree covered sweeps and their
broad and broken valleys and foothills.
In the hazy distance the small tributary
valleys are lost as they join the bigger
ones. The smoke of the southwest is
Hamlet. The water towers of the
neighborhood towns show to the north
and northwest. The massing green of
the pine trees in the distance give the
appearance of extensive forests. Knobs
are conspicuous in the horizon. They
look like the swell of bigger mountains
in a mountainous country. A photo-
graph taken from some of these sum-
mits could be given a name to indicate
they were taken in sky land, and they
would be accepted as coming from any
of the peaks in the entire sweep of the
ridges from Georgia to the St. Lawrence.
These Sanhill mountains are as in-
teresting as the bigger mountains and
they have the advantage that they are
much more accessible. The hundreds of
miles of excellent sand-clay roads that
have been built through the Sandhill
country run over and around the little
mountains. They climb the modest
hills, and before you suspect you are
popped out through a bit of woods to
the summit of a peak, and the panorama
spread out in front covers miles in all
directions. It is a case of the view of
Mt. Shasta from the valleys of Tehama.
Perhaps you can see five miles, perhaps
fifty. You can not tell. We can not
guess the distance of the horizon whether
we are on a big mountain or a little
mountain, and the distance to the ho-
rizon is about all there is in the difference
of size in mountains.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
41
It is unfortunate that the miscon-
ception of the Sandhill mountains ever
went out, for it is only by rediscovery
that the charm of these mountains can
ever be fixed. Some day I look for the
little mountains of North Carolina to
be as famous as the big ones, for in the
little mountains the traveler who moves
southward to escape the winter can
find all the romantic outdoor life he
wants in his winter vacation, and the
altitude is such that the little moun-
tains are in the warm weather belt in
the cold weather months. The North-
ern stranger can start out in his car on a
February morning for a tour through
the Sandhill mountains and he need not
worry about many rugs and wraps and
foot heaters. He can stop along the
country and find pyxsie moss, and ar-
butus coming in blossom, the pyxsie
moss in patches as big as a rug. He
can pick up the old mill at the creek
ford or at the bridge, and he can stop
and loiter in the pine thickets.
Then he can leave his car and go
afoot over the spurs and ridges that
the road skirts, and he will find breaking
out of some of the ridges, just as pic-
turesque little streams in just as fierce
little canyons as he will care to see.
The canyons are as abrupt as the bigger
ones, and they have the advantage that
if they are not convenient to climb
where he happens to find them there
will be a place farther up or farther
down where he can get across, and the
job is not one that takes all day to reach
the next peak. A big mountain has
that disadvantage. If you want to
cross the valley to the next peak it is a
ong, long way down, and a rough road
across and a long, long way to the next
top, and those long tiresome climbs take
away enthusiasm. One of the interest-
ing experiences I meet with in these
little mountains is the enthusiasm of
some of the old North Carolina folks
who come this way for the first time.
They are delighted with the mountain
scenery and views and with the progress
apparent on every hand. They are
astonished that so much is here that is
interesting, and that they have never
been aware of it before. Some day the
people of the state will understand that
a trip into the mountains of the low-
lands is worth while, and this will be-
come a popular place for home folks as
well as for people from the North.
Some day the natives will know where
the Johnson mountain is and McPher-
son mountain, and Blue's mountain, and
that from the bluff on the McPherson
mountain you can look out over the
valley at your feet and imagine you
are on the promontory at Cape Horn in
the Sierras for instance, where you can
see the American river a quarter of a
mile below, and opening out the valley
to the Pacific. Remember all these
distances are comparative.
I don't know how far we can see from
the McPherson mountain. Possibly
South Carolina is in the range of
vision. Certainly we can see away
down the Cape Fear. But what I know
for sure is that we can see an infinitely
attractive scene that opens out from all
around us and reaches to the unknown
point where earth and sky seem to
merge into one, and that is big enough
for anybody, for it is as big or as little
as his imagination cares to make it.
Then there is the pleasure of traveling
down the little mountain, and through
the intervening little valley, and up
the side of the next mountain, or
around its feet if we prefer, or down the
water courses that flow away from the
passes of these mountains, for endless
variety characterizes all this miniature
mountain scenery.
Turning backward to my earlier
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
years it looks now as though they had
been spent chiefly in the effort to eat
three meals a day at three different
places, and to sleep in a different bed
each night. I have worn out much shoe
leather and contributed my share to
the railroads and steamship companies.
Weighing out the few grains of wheat
from the chaff that in that way I have
gathered I insist that no place has more
to attract the man who likes to travel,
than North Carolina, and no part of
North Carolina is really more interest-
ing than our little mountains here in
the Sandhills. I can look out on the
day when a snow storm has fallen on
the distant ridge, a ridge that is a little
higher and which gets snow when we
get a misty rain, and it is easy to
imagine I am looking at the snow line
on the Caucausus, where in a more im-
pressive way the winter wraps the
summits and the summer smiles on the
plains. Or as a storm crosses the dis-
tant ridge in a July afternoon while at
our side is a fair sky and perfect weather
we can understand that Nature is the
same on all her scales. She has her
moods, whether in a big or a little
exhibition, and if our horizon is broad
enough to display the picture it is as
good as though it had a back ground a
thousand miles in extent.
So we get to the ultimate conclusion,
that the Sandhill mountains of North
Carolina are about as picturesque and
interesting as any poace in the world,
and that we do not need to go very far
away from home to find things to please
and benefit us.
'^
DISCOVERING CAROLINA
(Mary Groome McNinch.)
A group of wise men talking much
Of good old things ,one day,
Disputed where the Paradise
Of Eve and Adam lay;
Said one, "let's go and find it, then,
Let's search on wave and lea,
Sire Adam should have marked it so
His progeny could see."
They wandered over hill and vale,
Where western golds abound.
And streams enrich the sea but there
No Paradise was found;
They travelled to the whitest north.
Through palaces of ice.
But in that glistening fairy land
They found no Paradise!
In all the east of laughing love.
Of suns and gems and spice,
On houri ridden desert ways
Was, yet, no Paradise!
"It's gone!" they said, "this heavenly place
On earth will be no more.
For we have compassed land and sea
Each hill, each vale, each shore."
But, lo! they saw this land of ours,
Where every tree gave song.
And breezes caught the scent of flowers.
And fields waved gold along;
The streams ground grain, on thousand hills
The cattle did appear.
And lambs grazed by the banks whose bells
Made music sweet and clear.
The men they saw were brave and strong.
The women good and fair,
Their songs, oh! well, they never saw
Such beings anywhere.
'Twas then these wondering savants looked
Into each other's eyes;
"What fools to wander more, "they said,
"For this is Paradise!"
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
43
THE ROMANCE OF CAROLINA'S
INDUSTRIAL METROPOLIS
By J. L. Ludlow
ON THE bosom of the eastern slope
of the picturesque Appalachian
Mountains in Piedmont North Caro-
lina, "Pilot Knob" rears its bald head
with majestic dignity to the skies, an
unmistakable guide to any chance be-
wildered traveler.
Prior to the advent of the white man
on American soil, for untold centuries
this extraordinary freak of geologic for-
mation served as the guiding beacon for
the hunting expeditions of the primitive
races who peopled this country. For
generation after generation this bald
mountain peak, with its lofty grandeur,
directed the wanderings of the hunting
parties in peace, and the warring fac-
tions when strife was rampant among
the tribal divisions of the Red Man.
When peace prevailed, upon its broad
fiat top signal fires by night sent mes-
sages of friendship and kindly greetings
from tribe to tribe. And when war and
strife were rampant, its signal fires were
the means of conveying warnings and
summons alike as the exigencies re-
quired.
How many tribal battles were won
and lost, and to what extent, and in
how many ways, the destiny of our own
white race was determined by the fires
that fiashed from the isolated mountain
peak, this silent monument does not
tell, nor does history reveal. But tra-
dition is the parent of history, par-
ticularly of early history, and gives a
fertile field for interesting speculation.
At the time upon which my thought
is dwelling, the Piedmont Plateau of
the Carolinas was one vast primeval
forest with numerous streams of limpid
pure water, fresh from the mountain
slopes, and here and there a river bot-
tom and open fields of wonderful fer-
tility. The forests were full of buffalo,
bear, and panther, and innumerable
game, both great and small. The
streams were full of fish. The occasional
openings in the forest and the land of
the valleys and streams were covered
with a luxurious growth of grass and
forage. There was no need for modern
fertilizer and improved agricultural ma-
chinery to make a satisfactory crop. It
was only to burn off the grass, scratch a
few furrows and drop in a few grains of
corn, and a sufficient crop was harvested
to feed the entire tribe.
Such was the country from which a
large tract was deeded, on easy terms,
to the Moravian Church in 1750 by
Lord Granville from his great North
Carolina estates.
That any people could ever be found
sturdy and vigorous and brave enough
to undertake the task of conquering so
wild a wilderness seemed but an iri-
descent dream, and so the land was
purchasable at a few cents per acre in
any quantity. But the history of the
world is full of recorded events which,
prior to their achievement, were highly
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
improbable or seemingly impossible;
and, as the reader knows without the
telling, here is a shining example.
In spite of all the development of
modern travel and communication, it is
being demonstrated that it is a "long,
long way to Tipperary"; how easy then
to realize that a century and a half ago
it was indeed a long, long way to
Moravia! Yet hither now this story
leads us.
In the kaleidoscopic changes in
the geographical evolution of Germany
(which seems even yet not to be ended),
the eastern province, Moravia, has a
distinguished prominence. For cen-
turies, this province had been rent
asunder by both territorial and religious
conquests. Of pious, sturdy, and de-
termined yet peace-loving stock, the
uncertain prospect of jumping from
frying pan into fire could not deter
these Moravians when a prospect of
constructive and religious freedom was
presented. So in the year 1750 they
acquired one hundred thousand acres
in the promised land of the Carolinas,
to which the migration of the Brethren
was encouraged.
First there came the pioneer explorers
and surveyors to pave the way for the
establishment of a colony. The priva-
tions and hardships which these pioneer
explorers were compelled to endure are
matters of history, yet, to the modern
reader, with a mind tutored in the easy
life of the day, the story seems a romance
of fascinating enchantment.
Just a century and a half ago a small
band of these people came in sight of
the picturesque Pilot Knob and settled
and founded the town of Salem beneath
its shadow.
The site selected for the settlement
was on the bank of a small stream
which the early maps designated as
Wach Creek, but which is now known
as Salem Creek.
Like most early settlements, the bank
of a water course was deemed to offer
a suitable setting. Why this small
stream was chosen over the beautiful
Yadkin River, only thirteen miles away,
affords an interesting speculation. One
guess that we might hazard pertains to
considerations of safety from attacks by
Indians who had hitherto been the un-
disturbed monarchs of all they could
survey in this whole territory.
It had been learned that attacks by
stealth rather than open conflict was
the custom of the savages, and the site
selected offered more seclusion and
safety from attack than a site on the
more prominent stream, where the
principal trails would naturally be
located.
And so the town of Salem was es-
tablished in the year 1766. At first it
was strictly a communal center where
all property, including crops and foods,
was held in common. So closely was
the principle of community brother-
hood observed, that we have it from
well founded tradition that the system
of marriage followed was the selection
of wives and husbands by lot, drawing
from the names of all the eligibles at
the time Mr. Man desired to take unto
himself a wife. Before this system
gave way to the more democratic one of
choosing and asking, however, tradition
does not relate that more or less par-
donable cheating was not practiced.
Industrial activities, rather than com-
merce and agriculture, marked the early
history of Salem. During the few years
that intervened prior to the Revolu-
tionary War, an industrial center of no
small magnitude for the day and time
had been established and was largely
drawn upon for supplies for the Conti-
nental Army, particularly for shoes.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
45
The original Army requisitions for shoes
are still preserved in the town archives.
This was before the discovery of the
egg-shell trick for settling coffee grounds,
and among the early industries of Salem
was the manufacture of powder for this
purpose. This powder was made by
filing or grating the horns of the deer
which were abundant and easy prey.
Making buck-skin gloves and breeches
was a companion industry.
Other industries included the manu-
facture of chocolate into marketable
cakes directly from the imported bean.
The hair covered trunks that were seen
in grandfather's attic were most likely
the products of Salem factories, as this
was an industry of considerable magni-
tude in which the skin of dogs and of
the wild boar, which was plentiful, were
used.
Clay roofing tiles was another in-
dustry. Some of these roofing tiles,
now nearly a century and a half old,
may be seen on one or two of the old
houses. A companion industry to this
was the manufacture of clay tile heat-
ing stoves. These were made in artistic
as well as effective shapes and speci-
mens of this art of the long ago can be
seen in the museum of antiques, which
is maintained and carefully guarded in
Salem.
This was a peace-loving community
in a tobacco-growing section, so the
manufacture of clay pipes took on the
magnitude of an industry and they
were shipped in large numbers to the
Northern cities.
The surplus products were mostly
marketed by hauling to Charleston, S.
C, which was the nearest city and sea-
port of that day. Wagon trains of the
old time prairie schooner carried the
products to the sea and made the neces-
sary exchanges for European and North-
ern products. These early settlers were
a thrifty and industrious people. In-
cluded in their number were mechanics,
skilled in the various trades necessary
for building up an independent com-
munity and supplying all the comforts
of living known to that day. So they
purchased much less than they sold and
by 1770 the community was able, col-
lectively, to loan seven thousand dollars
in good money to the State.
In 1771 a water power grist mill was
built; in 1772 a tan yard and pottery;
in 1787 a wagon factory; in 1791 a
paper mill; in 1815 a woolen mill; in
1837 a steam driven cotton mill for
both spinning and weaving was an
epoch in the industrial development of
the town, which by this time had reached
a population of 700.
By 1849 this section of the State had
become so peopled that it became de-
sirable to establish a new county, and
the good old town of Salem had forced
upon her an adopted child in the new
"county town" of Winston, only a mile
or so away. I say forced upon her, be-
cause a county seat with a court house
and jail — and their attending festivities,
as they prevailed in that day — was
quite distasteful to the staid, serene,
religious life which had been developed
as Salem's distinctive characteristic. It
is at least a matter of accepted tradition,
if not of history, that for many years
the young town was treated by Salem
like the proverbial red-headed step-
child. But in the good year, 1913, all
past differences were forgiven and for-
gotten and the two towns united into
Winston-Salem, with one municipal
government.
The industrial development of Wins-
ton began with the first tobacco factory
which was built in 1874. Owing to the
proximity of tobacco fields and super-
ior facilities for marketing factory pro-
ducts, in the hands of brainy and hust-
46
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
ling men, the tobacco industry took on a
rapid growth. By 1890 there were a
large number of small factories engaged
in this industry with an annual produc-
tion of eight million pounds of plug
tobacco. By 1900 the factory output
had increased to twenty million pounds
and in 1914 it was more than sixty-
five million pounds.
During the period of 1890 to 1900
there came a readjustment of the tobacco
industry. In the local industry the
readjustment brought concentration of
the smaller factories into the larger
units. For supremacy in this industry
Winston-Salem had worthy rivals in
neighboring cities of North Carolina
and Virginia.
Supplemented perhaps to some ex-
tent by superior natural advantages,
the energy and business acumen of
Winston-Salem manufacturers was suc-
cessful in the rivalry with the other
cities and the foundation was laid for a
great industry of world-wide propor-
tions.
In the readjustment of the tobacco
industry, much of the energy, brains,
and money which had hitherto been
utilized in the tobacco industry was
turned to other lines, with the result
that a wide diversity of industry had
its beginning, until today supremacy
as an industrial center is so thoroughly
established, Winston-Salem is now the
largest center for the manufacture of
tobacco in the United States. It is the
largest center for the manufacture of
fine knit goods in the South. It is
among the largest furniture manufac-
turing centers. It has a greater diver-
sity of industries than any other city
in the Carolinas. Among the manu-
facturing enterprises are tobacco fac-
tories, cotton mills, hosiery mills, knit
underwear factories, carriage and wagon
factories, woolen and blanket factory,
harness factories, furniture factories,
roller mills, fertilizer factory, foundry
and machine shops, veneer factory,
mirror factories, and a wide variety of
machine novelties and articles of com-
mon use. The factories employ 12,000
wage earners with a weekly pay-roll
exceeding $100,000. More than 500
traveling salesmen carry samples of
Winston-Salem products into every part
of North America and to a number of
foreign countries.
The total value of the factory pro-
ducts in 1890 was $5,000,000; in 1900,
$10,000,000; in 1914, $40,000,000. Co-
incident with this great increase in
manufactured products the population
has increased from 4,000 in 1880 to
11,000 in 1890; 15,000 in 1900 and
40,000 at the present time.
Situated in the foot-hills of the Blue
Ridge Mountains at an altitude of
1,000 feet, it has the most salubrious
and even-tempered, all-the-year-round
climate to be found in America. In
addition to rare proximity to raw ma-
terials and wide markets for its indus-
trial operations, it has favorable trans-
portation routes to the markets of the
world. An abundance of intelligent,
readily trained Anglo-Saxon labor is a
factor of importance in its industrial
activities. It has the civic equipment of
the modern city. Good schools and
churches is the zealous care of the com-
munity conscience. It has many at-
tractive features of surpassing interest.
It is a city where every body works.
It is a veritable bee-hive of industry in
a land of sunshine and flowers, with a
hospitable, kindly citizenship. The
environment is a rare combination of
God-made and man-made conditions,
which make it a good place to live —
where life is worth living and living
abundantly.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
47
THE STORY OF THE GOLD
PRODUCING WEED
^
By G. E. Webb.
TN writing a sketch of the tobacco
-■- industry of Winston-Salem, we can
not go into lengthy details of private
enterprises or fulsom praise of individ-
uals, but it shall be our purpose to pre-
sent in as brief a manner as is con-
sistent with an intelligent and we trust
States if not in the world. As much as
the writer would like to do so, he can
not go into details as to the history of
the various enterprises that have made
the place famous as a tobacco market.
Many of these enterprises enter ex-
tensively into the history of Winston-
Brown-Williamson Tobacco Company's Plant
a comprehensive description of facts in
connection with the City's most im-
portant business, which shall show
forth to the world our undoubted claim
to the distinction of being the most
important tobacco center in the United
Salem, and many of the men who
helped to make the City what it is,
are entitled to credit and honor for
their high achievements in connection
with solid enterprises.
The birth of the Winston-Salem
48
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
tobacco market occurred on the four-
teenth day of February, eighteen-sev-
enty-two, when the late Major T. J.
Brown together with other gentlemen
of the then little village held the first
auction sale of tobacco. The sale was
held in an old stable, and about 20,000
pounds of tobacco was sold on the open-
ing sale.
It may not be amiss to mention in
connection with the organization of the
market such men as Col. Geo. W. Hin-
shaw, Mr. Jas. A. Gray and the late
Messrs. T. J. Wilson, J. W. Alspaugh,
needed more money than they had on
hand to pay off any day's sale they
would go out and borrow from some
firm or private individual.
From the time of the opening of the
Winston tobacco market until this day,
the superior excellency of tobaccos
grown in this section have attracted
the attention of tobacco manufacturers
and tobacco users in various parts of
the world. It is a conceded fact that
the tobaccos of the Piedmont Section
posess a peculiar sweetness and flavor,
that makes them popular for chewing
Brown-Williamson's Storage Warehouses
A. B. Gorrell, Dr. Shaffner and others.
The second warehouse to be built was
the Lash Warehouse built in 1873.
The Planters, which was afterwards
known as Piedmont, in the same year,
and then followed others, some of which
are now in existence while others have
passed into history. In 1872 when the
first tobacco was sold the population of
Winston-Salem was not more than three
hundred. There was no bank in Wins-
ton. The Old Cape Fear Bank in Salem
was the only banking institution in
this section. When warehousemen
purposes, and it is also a fact that a
large percentage of our tobacco are
always in demand for smoking and
cigarette purposes and they are also in
great demand by certain foreign coun-
tries.
It is not a far cry to the February day
in seventy-two, when the few scattered
buyers were summoned to the first sale
by the blowing of a horn, such as was
used on stage coaches, when 20,000
pounds were sold, to the present time,
when the market is selling nearly 30,-
000,000 pounds annually, and sometimes
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
49
more than half a milHon pounds in a
day. The production of tobacco in the
State amounts to something Hke 180,-
000,000 pounds annually. It will be
seen therefore that, while there are
thirty-five or forty tobacco markets in
the State, the Winston-Salem market
sells about one-sixth of the State's
production. During the tobacco season
of 1913-14 the market paid out through
its warehouses about $4,500,000 to the
farmers of this section.
from 5 to 1,000 pounds to the pile.
As many as 2,500 piles of tobacco is
sometimes crowded on one of the huge
floors, and as the floor has to be cleared
in a day the expert auctioneer, who is
also trained to his job is forced to sell
at the rate of five lots a minute. To
the stranger a sale is a show. The voice
of the auctioneer is heard all the day
long as he goes rapidly from pile to
pile, saying things that no one can tell
except the buyer. He is followed by
THE LATE M. W. NORFLEET
Mr. Norfleet Established Piedmont Warehouse
for the Sale of Leaf Tobacco in 1875. The
business is now conducted by his sons.
To a stranger visiting Winston-Salem
for the first time, its tobacco warehouses
become objects of decided interest.
Especially is this the case if a big
"break" is in progress. There can be
seen a number of keen eyed thoroughly
educated buyers, men who are supposed
to be so well trained as to enable them
to tell within a fraction what this, that
or the other grade of leaf is worth.
Some days the immense floors are
covered with piles of tobacco, ranging
the warehouseman, and a corpse of
helpers, and farmers crowd around him
all the time. Just as rapidly as the
tobacco is sold the farmer goes to the
office and receives his money.
While Winston-Salem claims the dis-
tinction of being one of the great leaf
tobacco markets of the world, it is not
to this fact alone she owes her great-
ness as a tobacco center.
Winston-Salem is to-day the most
important point for the manufacture of
50
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
tobacco in the United States. More
than eighty per cent of the country's
production of what is known as flat
plug chewing tobacco is made here.
MilUons of pounds of smoking tobacco
is made here, and sold throughout the
world. Cigarettes and snuff are also
manufactured extensively, and the ex-
tensive tobacco manufacturing interests
together with the importance of the
leaf market easily places Winston-Salem
in the lead as a great tobacco center.
ness men discovered that a good leaf
market presented extra inducements for
the manufacture of tobacco, and to-day
from a small beginning back in seventy-
two, the output of manufactured to-
bacco in Winston-Salem amounts to
about seventy-five million pounds an-
nually and the City has a world wide
reputation, from her success in this
industry.
The tobacconists of Winston-Salem
who are living and who are engaged in
Old Piedmont Warehouse
But little tobacco was manufactured
here prior to the advent of warehouses.
Major Hamilton Scales being the first
to start the business. After Major
Scales came the Vaughns from Stokes
and then the Hanes from Davie County
and Bitting & Whitaker and R. J.
Reynolds and his brothers from Pat-
rick County, Va.
From year to year enterprising busi-
the tobacco trade as a rule are men of
whom the City may well feel proud.
Generally starting with small means
they have by sagacity, industry and
perseverance hewn out their own suc-
cess and become the architects of the
competency with which they are sur-
rounded. Their deahngs with cus-
tomers and employees have always been
characterized by fairness and liberality
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
51
and for generous aid to public enter-
prises. No class of our citizenship can
be so universally relied upon.
The extensive tobacco business of
Winston-Salem is conducted upon a
systematic basis. Thousands of men,
women and children find clean and
healthy employment in the factories
and warehouses, and as the years go
by the volume of the tobacco business
increases and there is no telling what
the possibilities are.
COL. GARLAND E. WEBB
52
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
ROAD WORK IN NORTH CAROLINA
DURING NINETEEN - FOURTEEN
•*•
By Joseph Hyde Pratt, State Geologist.
'T^HE North Carolina Geological and
-■- Economic Survey in cooperation
with the United States Office of Public
Roads collects each year data in regard
to the road work of the various counties
and townships for the previous year.
Such returns have not yet been received
for 1914, but from information which
has been obtained during the year
through correspondence and otherwise
it can safely be stated that the road
work of this State progressed more
rapidly and satisfactorily during 1914
than ever before.
There was raised for public road
funds in the various counties during 1914
approximately $1,500,000 by special
taxes, about one-sixth of which has
gone toward the interest and sinking
fund on bond issues. During this same
period there have been voted $4,865,000
in bonds by counties and townships,
about $2,430,000 of this being spent
during the year. On an average there
was used about 1,800 short-term con-
victs on the public roads in the county
and township chain gangs and about
150 state convicts. The labor of these
convicts adds approximately $360,000
to the road fund. Reckoning free labor
at $1 per man per day we have about
$800,000 spent on the roads in addition
to the above. Interest in good roads
has reached such a keen stage that there
has been subscribed by private indi-
viduals toward the building of good
roads sums amounting in 1914 to ap-
proximately $60,000.
It will be seen from the above that
we have spent during the past year ap-
proximately $5,150,000 on our public
roads. We now have in North Caro-
lina approximately 48,991 miles of pub-
lic roads, of which 5,474 miles have
been improved and surfaced up to
January the 1st, 1914. It is estimated
that during 1914 about 1,500 miles of
road were graded and surfaced, cost-
ing approximately $4,000,000. Whether
or not this money was wisely spent
depends upon whether the roads were
located properly and built according to
approved and economical methods. It
is a matter of gratification, however,
that there has been a decided change in
the character of the expenditure of the
road funds in many of our counties.
Upon the advice of the Highway Di-
vision of the Geological Survey more
and more counties and townships have
been induced to employ competent
highway engineers to take charge of their
road work. If such engineers are given
the right support by the people of the
county the money will be expended
wisely and economically.
The amount of engineering assistance
which the Geological Survey has been
able to give to the counties and town-
ships, although limited by the small
appropriation to the Survey, has re-
sulted in the proper location and con-
struction of many miles of road which
otherwise would either not have been
attempted or would have been poorly
located and built.
SDY-LAND MAGAZINE
53
It is believed by those who have
studied the road situation of the State
very carefully that the establishment
of a State Highway Commission or an
increased appropriation to the High-
way Division of the Geological Survey
would result in a wise expenditure of
the road funds in the various counties
of the State, and prevent the enormous
waste which results from the present
haphazard and unsystematic methods of
road administration and construction.
It is being realized more and more in
this State that public roads are of more
than local interest and that long
stretches of good roads are matters of
State importance. This I hope is
bearing fruit in the intercounty and
interstate highways which are now
being constructed through various sec-
tions of our State and of the country.
Among these are the National Highway,
the Capital to Capital Highway, the
Quebec-Miami Highway, the Southern
National Highway (following the route
of the Central Highway), the Asheville-
Murphy-Atlanta Highway, the Ashe-
ville-Greenville Highway, the Asheville-
Charlotte and Charlotte - Wilmington
Highway, the Central Highway, the
Triangular Highway, the Boone Way,
the Asheville-Knoxville Highway, the
Wilmington - Goldsboro Highway, the
Crest of the Blue Ridge Highway, etc.,
etc.
The building of these highways ex-
tending from county to county and
from State to state marks an era of
liberality on the part of the various
counties and sections of the State which
has heretofore not been felt in any pub-
lic work. By making it possible for
one section of the State to have a good
road to another section will undoubtedly
bring about a closer bond of citizenship
than has heretofore existed in the State.
JAMES A. GREER
Author and Publisher
54
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
O. HENRY
(By C. Alphonso Smith.)
O HENRY'S life falls naturally into
• two periods, a period of prepara-
tion extending to 1902, and a period of
achievement extending from 1902, when
he settled in New York, to his death in
1910. He was born on West Market
Street, Greensboro, North Carolina,
September 11, 1862. His mother died
when he was only three years old but
he cherished through life the tenderest
thought of her and used often to speak
with mingled pride and affection of the
poems that she had written. Her
maiden name was Mary Jane Virginia
Swaim. She studied at the Edgeworth
Female Seminary in Greensboro and at
the Greensboro Female College, graduat-
ing from the latter in 1850 at the age of
seventeen. Her graduating essay bore
the title "The Influence of Misfortune
on the Gifted." I have in my possession
several of her letters written in early
girlhood and one of her textbooks, Dr.
Archibald Alexander's "Evidences of
Christianity." The fly leaves are covered
with selections from her favorite poets
and with dainty sketches of gates,
houses, trees, and flowers. A faded note
written by one of her teachers when she
was thirteen shows that she was study-
ing algebra, philosophy, English gram-
mar, and rhetoric. "She ranks", says
the note, "no. 1 in her studies, has an
excellent mind, and will no doubt make
a fine scholar".
What is more pertinent, however, is
that her letters even as a child show a
nimble and alert humor that breaks
through the prim formalities of the
time with surprising and delightful fre-
quency. One of her classmates writes:
"Miss Mary Swaim was noted in her
school days as a writer of beautiful
English and the school girls came to
depend upon her for their compositions.
She wrote most of the graduating essays
for the students". In character, in
temperament, in literary taste, and in
a certain instinctive shyness, O. Henry
owed much to his mother.
To his father, Dr. Algernon Sidney
Porter, he certainly owed in part his
sympathy with all sorts and conditions
of men, his overflowing generosity, his
indifference to caste, — in a word his
constant and essential democracy. To
the same source may be ascribed,
through association at least, some of O.
Henry's constructive ingenuity. Dr.
Porter was for several years the best
known and the best loved physician in
Guilford County. An old friend of his,
to whom the memory of Dr. Porter
brought tears, said recently: "He was
the best hearted man I ever knew, hon-
est, high-toned, and generous. Rain or
shine, sick or well, he would visit the
poorest family in the county. He would
have been a rich man if he had collected
a half of what was due him. His iron-
gray hair and the shape of his head
reminded you of Zeb Vance. "
My own memory of Dr. Porter — he
died in 1888 — is of a small man with a
huge head and long beard, quiet, gentle,
soft- voiced, self-effacing, who looked at
you as if from another world and who
walked with a step so noiseless, so abso-
lutely echo-less, as to attract attention.
This characteristic also was inherited
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
55
by his gifted son who always seemed to
me to be treading on down. They used
to say of Dr. Porter that he had a far
better scientific knowledge of medicine
and drugs than any other physician in
the community. He had studied under
Dr. David Weir and for a time lectured
on chemistry at the Edgeworth Female
Seminary of which Dr. Weir was prin-
cipal. Dr. Porter's interests veered,
however, more and more to inventions,
and less and less to the actual practice
of medicine. A perpetual motion water
wheel became his vocation, his avoca-
tions being a churn, a washing machine,
a horseless carriage to be run by steam,
and a cotton picking contrivance that
was to take the place of negro labor.
In one of his last interviews O. Henry
said that he often found himself recall-
ing the days when as a boy he used to
lie sprawling and dreaming on the old
barn floor in Greensboro while his father
worked quietly and assiduously on his
perpetual motion water wheel.
But the strongest influence brought
to bear on O. Henry during his life in
North Carolina was the influence of his
aunt. Miss Evelina Maria Porter, known
by everyone as Miss Lina. The death
of his mother when he was only three
years of age and the increasing absorp-
tion of his father in fruitless inventions
resulted in Miss Lina's taking the place
of both parents, and this she did, not
only with whole-souled devotion but
with rare and efficient intelligence. Her
little school room on the Porter premises
has long been torn down but it still
lives in the grateful memory of all who
attended it and has attained a new
immortality in the fame of its most
brilliant pupil. O. Henry attended no
other school and he attended this only
to the age of fifteen. Miss Lina did not
spare the rod but I have never known a
pupil of her school, whether doctor,
teacher, preacher, lawyer, or judge, who
did not say that every application of the
rod, so far as he was concerned, was
amply and urgently deserved. To have
been soundly whipped by Miss Lina is
still regarded in Greensboro as a sort of
spiritual bond of union, linking together
the citizens of the town in a community
of cutaneous experience, for which they
would not exchange a college diploma.
But we are more concerned here with
Miss Lina's method of teaching litera-
ture. She had a method and O. Henry's
lifelong love of good books was the
fruitage of her method. She did not
teach the history of literature but she
labored in season and out of season to
have her pupils assimilate the spirit of
literature. Her reading in the best
English literature was, if not wide, at
least intimate and appreciative. She
loved books as she loved flowers, because
her nature demanded them. Fiction
and poetry were her means of widening
and enriching her own inner life, not of
learning facts about the world without.
She did not measure literature by life
but life by literature. I have often
thought that Miss Lina must have been
in O. Henry's thought when he wrote
those suggestive words about Azalea
Adair in "A Municipal Report:" "She
was a product of the old South, gently
nurtured in the sheltered life. Her
learning was not broad, but was deep
and of splendid originality in its some-
what narrow scope. She had been edu-
cated at home, and her knowledge of the
world was derived from inference and
by inspiration. Of such is the precious,
small group of essayists made. While
she talked to me I kept brushing my
fingers, trying, unconsciously, to rid
them guiltily of the absent dust from
the half-calf backs of Lamb, Chaucer,
Hazlitt, Marcus Aurelius, Montaigne,
and Hood. She was exquisite, she was
56
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
a valuable discovery. Nearly everybody
nowadays knows too much — oh, so
much too much — of real life."
Miss Lina used regularly to gather
her boys about her at recess and read to
them from some classic author. When
she saw that she had caught their in-
terest she would announce a Friday
night meeting in the school room at
which they would pop corn and roast
chestnuts and she would continue the
readings. "I did more reading", says
O. Henry, "between my thirteenth and
nineteenth years than I have done in
all the years since and my taste at that
time was much better than it is now,
for I used to read nothing but the clas-
sics. Burton's "Anatomy of Melan-
choly" and Lane's translation of "The
Arabian Nights" were my favorites".
During his busy years in New York he
often remarked to Mrs. Porter: "I
never have time to read now. I did all
my reading before I was twenty".
This did not, of course, refer to news-
papers which he devoured three or four
times a day.
But Miss Lina believed that the best
way to learn or to appreciate the art of
narration was to try your hand at it
yourself. You might never become a
great writer but you would at least have
a first hand acquaintance with the dis-
cipline that well-knit narrative involves.
In the intervals, therefore, between
chestnut roastings and classic readings
an original story would be started,
everyone present having to make an
impromptu contribution when called on.
Each contribution, being expected to
grow naturally out of the incidents that
preceded it, demanded of course the
closest attention to all that had hitherto
been said. The most difficult role in
this narrative program fell of course to
the pupil who tried to halt the windings
of the story by an interesting and ade-
quate conclusion. To do this required
not only a memory that retained vividly
the incidents and characters already
projected into the story but a con-
structive imagination that could inter-
pret and fuse them. Need I say that
the author of "The Four Million"
found his keenest delight in this exercise
or that his contributions were those
most eagerly awaited by teacher and
pupil?
But when O. Henry's boyhood friends
recall him it is not as a pupil in Miss
Lina's school; nor is it as the writer in
the great city, whose stories count their
readers by the million. It is as the
clerk in his uncle Clark Porter's drug
store on Main Street. Here he was
known and loved by old and young,
black and white, rich and poor. He
was the wag of the town, but so quiet,
so unobtrusive, so apparently pre-
occupied that it was his pencil rather
than his tongue that spread his local
fame. His feeling for the ludicrous, for
the odd, for the distinctive, in speech,
tone, appearance, conduct, or character
responded instantly to the appeal made
by the drug store constituency. Not
that he was not witty; he was. But
his best things were said with the pencil.
There was not a man or woman in the
town whom he could not reproduce
recognizably with a few strokes of a
lead pencil, though he never took a
lesson in drawing. Thus it was a com-
mon occurrence, when Mr. Clark Porter
returned to the store from lunch, for a
conversation like this to take place. O.
Henry would say: "Uncle Clark, a
man called to see you a little while ago
to pay a bill". It should be premised
that it was not good form in those days
to ask a man to stand and deliver
either his name or the amount due.
"Who was it"? Mr. Porter would ask.
"I never saw him before but he looks
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
57
miw^jffr^safff!*??^'^'^-^^ ^
i c
^^ i^A.
'
"H
''K'&
..
>-
A,-
>f
ii>
H
T
-J"-
'hi
1
£
:S,
f/, vs.
>y
like this," and the pencil would dash up
and down a piece of wrapping paper.
"O, that's Bill Jenkins out here at
Reedy Fork. He owes me $7.25."
His pencil sketches sometimes gave
offence, especially when some admirer
would hang them in the store window,
but rarely. He was absolutely without
malice. There was about him also a
gentleness of manner, a delicacy of
feeling, a refinement in speech and
demeanor that was as much a part of
him as his humor. No one who knew
him in the old days could be surprised
at the indignation with which in later
years he resented the constant com-
parison of his work with that of De
Maupassant, though he kept a copy of
De Maupassant always at hand. No
two writers ever lived more diametrically
opposed than O. Henry and De Mau-
passant except in technique. "I have
been called", he said, "the American
De Maupassant, Well, I never wrote
a filthy word in my life, and I don't
like to be compared to a filthy writer."
Vulgarity was never funny to him; it
was only disgusting. Like Edgar Allan
Poe, with whom he had little else in
common, O. Henry was honored during
his whole life with the understanding
friendship of a few noble-spirited women
who in the early days as in the later
helped, I think, to keep his compass true.
George Eliot in " Romola" tells of the
part played in medieval Florence by
the barber shop. A somewhat anal-
ogous part was played in Greensboro a
generation ago by the drug store.
Greensobro itself, it may be said, was
more than a typical small town. Its
widely patronized law school and schools
for women, the standing of its preachers
and judges, its graded school which was
the first to be established in the State,
its nearness to the Revolutionary battle
field of Guilford Court House, its varied
though limited produce due to its mid-
state situation, and the comparative
absence of violent political antagonisms
made it a good town to be born in and a
wholesome town to live in. It .contained
not more than five thousand inhabitants
but the drug store was the rendezvous
of all classes. It was in fact the social,
political, and anecdotal clearing house
58
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
of the town. The patronage of the
grocery stores and dry goods stores was
controlled in part by denominational
lines, but everybody patronized the
drug store. It was also a sort of physical
confessional. The man who would
expend only a few words in purchasing a
ham or a hat would talk half an hour of
his aches and ills or those of his family
before buying twenty-five cents worth
of pills or a ten cent bottle of liniment.
When the ham or the hat was paid for
and taken away there was usually an
end of it. Not so with the pills or the
liniment. The patient usually came
back to continue his personal or family
history and to add a sketch of the char-
acter and conduct of the pills or liniment.
All this was grist to O. Henry's mill.
No man, I think, without a training
similar to O. Henry's would be likely to
write such a story as " Makes the Whole
World Kin". A burglar, you remember,
has entered a house at night. "Hold up
both your hands", he said. "Can't
raise the other one," was the reply.
"What's the matter with it?" "Rheu-
matism in the shoulder." "Inflamma-
tory?" asked the burglar. "Was. The
inflammation has gone down." " 'Scuse
me," said the burglar, "but it just
socked me one, too." "How long have
you had it?" inquired the citizen.
"Four years." "Ever try rattlesanke
oil?" asked the citizen. "Gallons. If
all the snakes I've used the oil of was
strung out in a row they'd reach eight
times as far as Saturn, and the rattles
could be heard at Valparaiso, Indiana,
and back." In the end the burglar
helps the citizen to dress and they go
out together, the burglar standing treat.
The drawings that O. Henry used to
make of the characters that frequented
the drug store were not caricatures.
There was usually, it is true, an over-
emphasis put upon some one trait but
this trait was the central trait, the over-
emphasis serving only to interpret and
reveal the character as a whole. Exam-
ining these sketches anew, when the
characters themselves are thirty odd
years older than they were then, one is
struck with the resemblance still exist-
ing. In fact O. Henry's sketches repro-
duce the characters as they are today
more faithfully than do the photographs
taken at the same time. The photo-
graphs have been outgrown, but not
the sketches; for the sketches caught
the central and permanent, while the
photogrpahs made no distinction. In
O. Henry's story called "A Madison
Square Arabian Night" an artist, picked
at random from the "free-bed line", is
made to say: "Whenever I finished a
picture people would come to see it,
and whisper and look queerly at one
another. I soon found out what the
trouble was. I had a knack of bringing
out in the face of a portrait the hidden
character of the original. I don't know
how I did it — I painted what I saw."
In 1882, at the age of twenty, O.
Henry moved from Greensboro to Texas.
His life in Texas has been succinctly
told in the pages of the New York
"Bookman" and will be only summar-
ized here. It may be that his health
had something to do with his going to
Texas but far more urgent were the
accounts that used to come to us in
Greensboro of the adventure of the
Hall boys in Texas. O. Henry thrilled
over these stories and made us thrill
over them, but I never heard him men-
tion his health and never thought of
him as frail. One of the most memor-
able characters in Greensboro a genera-
tion ago was Dr. James K. Hall, a giant
of a man, who, from habit if not from
necessity, used to stoop whenever he
entered an ordinary doorway. Dr. Hall
had succeeded to the practice that had
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
59
once been O. Henry's father's and was
of course an habitue of Mr. Clark Por-
ter's drug store. His two sons, Dick
and Lee, were the first Greensboro men
to hear and heed the call of Texas.
They settled in La Salle County and
became noted Texas rangers. O. Henry
used to hold us breathless with the
hair-breadth 'scapes of these two Caro-
linians whose parents lived quiet and
honored lives among us but whose
adventures along the Nueces and the
Rio Grande made the romance of La
Salle and Webb Counties seem to us a
close second to "the glory that was
Greece and the grandeur that was
Rome". La Salle County became our
ideal borderland. We read Scott and
Cooper but we thought of La Salle
County.
No one was surprised, therefore, when
O. Henry slipped quietly away and
settled in La Salle County with Dick
and Lee Hall. His life on the ranch,
his happy marriage in Austin, his exper-
iences with "The Rolling Stone," his
work on the Houston Post, his visits to
New Orleans and Central America con-
tributed enormously to widen his vision,
to deepen and diversify his knowledge
of life, and thus to make possible the
inimitable work of later years. He
learned in three months to speak Mex-
ican Spanish like a native, his reading
became more and more inclusive, his
association with Mrs. Dick Hall served
to re-light the torch received from Miss
Lina, his experiences in an Austin drug
store and land office supplemented and
enlarged the experiences gained in his
uncle's store, and the six months in
Honduras not only gave the material
for "Cabbages and Kings" but con-
tributed the necessary contrast and per-
spective to all that had gone before.
When O. Henry arrived in New York
in 1902 his formative years had passed
and his genuinely creative work was to
begin. His preparation had been
thorough, continuous, and peculiarly
adapted to the work that he was to do.
From Miss Lina's school to New York
may justly be called his "In the Work-
shop" period; his eight years in New
York were his "In the World" period.
During these last eight years he pub-
lished nearly all of the two hundred and
fifty-two stories that now circulate in
book form. His most prolific years
were 1904 and 1905. In 1904 he pub-
lished sixty-seven stories and in 1905
fifty-two. No other years of his life
approximate such an output. When we
consider not only the number of these
stories but their range of theme, their
variety of locale, their differences of
mood and manner, their technical excel-
lence, and their steadily increasing
appeal in book form to the reading
public, it becomes evident that a new
chapter has been added to the annals of
narrative genius in this country. When
O. Henry began to write, there was a
settled tradition that short stories
which had already appeared in maga-
zines or newspapers would not sell in
book form. . Today more than 1,100,000
O. Henry volumes have found pur-
chasers, and each year marks an ad-
vance over the preceding year.
A new angle from which to appraise
the distinction of O. Henry's work dur-
ing these eight years is furnished by a
questionnaire recently sent out to a
select list of ten, composed of those
who write stories, those who buy
stories, and those who sell stories.
Each of the ten was asked to name the
ten stories of O. Henry that made the
strongest personal appeal to him. The
returns, published in the New York
Bookman of June 1914, show that
sixty-two different stories were named.
One risks nothing in saying that no
60
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
other writer of short stories, living or
dead, would have had so long a pre-
ferred list put to his credit. It may
be mentioned also that since 1908
hardly a book has appeared on the
American short story as a distinct
literary type that does not make
prominent the work of O. Henry.
Some of these books are popular and
superficial in treatment while others are
studied and technical; but whether
written for the high school pupil or the
general reader or the college student, it
is exceptional to find one that does not
use some of O. Henry's stories as models.
O. Henry's real achievement, however,
is not to be measured in terms of his
preparation or of his present vogue. It
must be sought, of course, in the nature
of his work itself. Most of those who
have commented upon his work have
singled out his technique, especially his
unexpected endings, as his distinctive
contribution to the American short
story. "I cannot drop this topic", says
Professor Walter B. Pitkin, author of
"The Art and the Business of Story
Writing," "without urging the student
to study carefully the maturer stories of
0. Henry, who surpasses all writers past
and present in his mastery of the direct
denouement".
The unexpected ending, however, is
not, even technically, the main point in
the structural excellence of a short
story. Skill here marks only the con-
vergence and culmination of structural
excellence that have stamped the stor^^
from the beginning. The crack of the
whip at the end is a mechanical feat as
compared with the skilful manipulation
that made it possible. Walter Pater
speaks somewhere — and O. Henry's
best stories are perfect illustrations — of
"that architectural conception of the
work which perceives the end in the
beginning and never loses sight of it.
and in every part is conscious of all the
rest, till the last sentence does but, with
undiminished vigor, unfold and justify
the first." In fact it is not the surprise
at the end that reveals the technical
mastery of O. Henry or of Poe and De
Maupassant. It is rather the instantly
succeeding second surprise that there
should have been a first surprise: it is
the clash of the unexpected but inevit-
able.
It is not technique, however, that has
given O. Henry his wide and widening
vogue. It is rather that he has enlarged
the area of the American short story by
enriching and diversifying its social
content. In his hands the short story
has become the organ of a social con-
sciousness more varied and multiform
than it had ever expressed before. Old
Sir John Davies once said of the soul
that it was
"Much like a subtle spider which doth sit
In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide;
If aught do touch the utmost thread of it,
She feels it instantly on every side."
So was O. Henry. Whether in North
Carolina or Texas or New York an
instant responsiveness to the humor or
the pathos or the mere human interest
of men and women playing their part
in the drama of life, was always his
distinguishing characteristic. It was
not merely that he observed closely.
Beneath the power to observe and the
skill to reproduce lay a passionate inter-
est in social phenomena which with him
no other interest ever equalled or ever
threatened to replace.
Man in solitude made little appeal to
O. Henry, though he had seen much of
solitude himself. But man in society,
his "humors" in the old sense, his
whims and vagaries, his tragedies and
comedies and tragi-comedies, his con-
flicts with individual and institutional
forces, his complex motives, the good
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
61
underlying the evil, the ideal lurking
potent but unsuspected within — , what-
ever entered as an essential factor into
the social life of men and women
wrought a sort of spell upon O. Henry
and found increasing expression in his
art. It was not startling plots that he
sought: it was human nature themes,
themes beckoning to him from the life
about him but not yet wrought into
short story form. Thus the short story
received at his hands a new sensitive-
ness, a new plasticity. It began to
mirror aspects and areas of society
unadmitted before.
In "An Unfinished Story" it enters
the lists of social service in behalf of the
under-paid and under-appreciated. Some
one has said that Dickens's "Christmas
Carol" has done more good than any
story ever written. As the years go
by will not the "Christmas Carol" be
overtaken by "An Unfinished Story?"
It was not hunger, it was not the need of
the so-called necessities that wrecked
Dulcie's life. The cause lay deeper than
that; it belonged not to the eternal-
human but to the eternal-womanly. It
was neither food nor clothing; it was
the natural love of adornment. Dulcie
received S6.00 a week. The necessities
amounted to $4.76. "I hold my pen
poised in vain", says O. Henry, "when
I would add to Dulcie's life some of those
joys that belong to woman by virtue of
all the unwritten, sacred, natural, in-
active ordinances of the equity of
heaven". In "A Municipal Report" O.
Henry makes the short story enter the
lists as an antagonist of the theory that
New York, New Orleans, and San
Francisco are the only "story cities" in
the United States. "Dear cousins all
(from Adam and Eve descended) ", says
the author in his philosophical overture
to the story, "it is a rash one who will
lay his finger on the map and say: 'In
this town there can be no romance'."
In "The Gift of the Magi "the
philosophical paragraph comes last. It
explains how the story came to be so
named and throws a new light on an
incident as old as Christianity. The
gift of gold, frankincense, and myrrh
made by the magi to the infant Christ
was a gift utterly without utility. What
could the infant Jesus do with these
things? But the pure love that prompt-
ed the gift shines all the brighter because
the gift itself, humanly speaking, was
an egregious misfit. Every parent or
teacher who has received Christmas
gifts from little children recognizes that
O. Henry has here enriched a Bible
incident not by formal comment but by
a very modern Christmas story.
In "The Lickpenny Lover" we have
a brilliant variation on a theme familiar
to everyone who has ever thought at
all on "language as social custom".
There are thousands of working girls in
New York whose world is bounded by
Coney Island. From some such com-
monplace of daily speech O. Henry took
his cue. Masie, a shop girl, is courted
by Irving Carter, painter, millionaire,
traveler, poet, automobilist. He had
fallen in love at first sight. "Marry
me, Masie", he whispered, "and we will
go away from this ugly city to beautiful
ones. I know where I should take you"
and he launched into a moving descrip-
tion of palaces, towers, gondolas, India
and her ancient cities, Hindoos, Jap-
anese gardens, — but Masie had risen to
her feet. The next morning she scorn-
fully remarked to her chum, Lu:
"What do you think that fellow wanted
me to do? He wanted me to marry
him and go down to Coney Island for a
wedding tour". So the Hostess in
"Henry V" thought that the dying
Falstaff only "babbled of green fields"
but he was repeating or trying to repeat
62
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the Twenty-Third Psalm. Words meant
to Masie and to the poor Hostess only
what their experience would let them
mean; and words mean to you and me
only what our experience will let them
mean. The pathos as well as the humor
of speech as a social instrument is that
the appeal of every word is measured
not by its formal definition but by the
hearer's orbit of experience and associa-
tion. Are we not all Masies more or less
when we read Dante or Shakespeare or
Goethe? Do not opportunities call in
vain because our little personal orbits
will not let us see them as opportuni-
ties or hear them as challenges? For
my part I can never read the "Gospel
of John" with its talk of "life", "light",
"truth", being "born again", "meat to
eat ye know not of", with the pathetic
misunderstandings that run plaintively
and questioningly through it all, with-
out thinking of this strangely suggestive
story. The tragedy of the circum-
scribed life is not that it mistakes the
imitation world for the real world but
that the imitation world is its all.
Or take the powerful presentation of
the law of habit made in "The Pendu-
lum", ending with "Thought I'd drop
up to McCloskey's and play a game or
two of pool with the fellows", — words
apparently as empty of significance as
any that could be spoken but charged
here with a subtle and cumulative fate-
fulness; or that luminous exposition of
self-culture through the vocation which
O. Henry calls "The Trimmed Lamp."
Read again and note the universality
but not commonplaceness of "Tran-
sients in Arcadia", in which "the tables
are turned on Haroun al Raschid"; or,
greatest of all, "The Furnished Room",
in which transiency is differently mo-
tived,— a story which recalls Poe and
Hawthorne at their highest, and the
last part of which is as creepily powerful
as the second witch scene in " Macbeth".
O. Henry, then, as I see it, has given
the American short story a new reach
and a widened social content. It is too
soon to attempt to assign him a com-
parative rank among his predecessors.
We may attempt, however, to place him
if not to weigh him. It was Washington
Irving who first gave the American
short story a standing at home and
abroad. There is a calm upon Irving's
pages, an easy quiet grace in his sen-
tences, an absence of restlessness and
hurry, that give him an unquestioned
primacy among our masters of an elder
day. He was more meditative and less
intellectual than Scott, but, like Scott,
he was essentially retrospective. He
used the short story to rescue and re-
launch the small craft of legend and
tradition which had already upon their
sails the rime of eld. He legendized the
short story.
Poe's genius was first and last con-
structive. It was the build of the short
story rather than its historical or intel-
lectual content that gripped his interest.
Poe's art, unlike that of Irving, is identi-
fied with no particular time or place.
He was always stronger on moods than
on tenses, and his geography curtsied
more to sound than to Mercator or
Maury. But in the mathematics of the
short story, in the art of making it
converge definitely and triumphantly
to a pre-ordained end, in the mastery
of all that is connoted by the word
technique, Poe's is the greatest name.
The short story came from his hands a
new art form, not charged with a new
content but eff^ectively equipped for a
new service. In form, at least, Poe
standardized the short story.
Hawthorne made the short story a
vehicle of symbolism. Time and place
were only starting points with him.
He saw double, and the short story was
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
63
made to see double, too. Puritan New
England, New England of the past, was
his locale; but his theme was spiritual
truth, a theme that has always had an
affinity for symbols and symbolism.
Hawthorne allegorized the short story.
With Bret Harte the short story
entered a new era. He was the first of
our short story writers to pre-empt a
definite and narrowly circumscribed
time and place and to lift both into
literature. Dialect became for the first
time an effective ally of the American
short story, and local color was raised
to an art. Though Bret Harte's appeal
is not and has never been confined to
any one section of the country, it is
none the less true that he first success-
fully localized the American short story.
A glance through O. Henry's pages
shows that his familiarity with the
different sections of the United States
was greater than that of any predecessor
named. He had lived in every part of
the country that may be called dis-
tinctive except New England, but he
has not pre-empted any locality. His
stories take place in Central America,
in the South, in the West, and in the
North. He always protested against
having his stories interpreted as mere
studies in localism. There was not one
of his New York stories, he said, in
which the place was essential to the
underlying truth or to the human
interest back of it. Nor was his tech-
nique distinctive. It is essentially the
technique of Poe which became later
the technique of De Maupassant but
was modified by O. Henry to meet new
needs and to subserve diverse purposes.
The keynote of O. Henry's work, his dis-
tinctive contribution to the American
short story, is found in the words with
which he prefaced "The Four Million":
"Not very long ago some one invented
theassertion that there were only ' Four
Hundred' people in New York City
who were really worth noticing. But a
wiser man has arieen — the census taker
— and his larger estimate of human
interest has been preferred in marking
out the fields of these little stories of
the 'Four Million'." (). Henry has
socialized the short story.
WINTER KING
Up rose the wild old Winter-king,
And shook his beard of snow;
"I hear the first young harebell ring,
'Tis time for me to go.
Northward o'er the icy rocks.
Northward o'er the sea,
My daughter comes with sunny locks;
This land's too warm for me.
— Charles Godfrey Leland.
64
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
FROM WHOSE BOURNE
AN UNWRITTEN STORY BY ROBERT BARR
(Told by Mary C. Robinson)
A RECENT essayist has said : Heroes
and minstrels are not usually
made of the same stuff. The person
whom adventures befall is not neces-
sarily the one best able to relate them.
But there are rare beings who are born
with the hero and the minstrel soul
bound together within them." The late
Robert Barr was one of these rare beings.
His friends knew that while it was good
to read the novels — and better still the
short stories he wrote, it was best to
sit with him by the home fireside and
listen to the tales he told. Mr. Barr
had a genius for having adventures;
most of his fiction was built upon per-
sonal experience; he lived romance.
He was gifted as a raconteur, and that
rarest endowment, charm — made his
stories more fascinating in the hearing
than the reading. The tale that follows
was told in the Detroit home of the
narrator, on a wintry morning (for the
mantel clock had long since chimed the
hour of midnight.) When Robert Barr
was our guest, bed was not spoken of,
even for the children of the family; all
hung upon his words nor thought of
sleep. Mr. Barr was a practical man,
a canny Scot with strong common
sense, and that is the reason, it may be,
why he never told the strange story of
John Ball. He called it:
"The Story I Can Never Write."
I have had a most curious experience
— Mr. Barr began — I do not explain it —
I can not, but if you like I will tell it to
you and see what you can make of it.
The incidents leading up to it, began
soon after I went to England to live.
For a number of years, with the publi-
cation of almost every story or novel,
I received a letter from a certain John
Ball. The letters were brief and well
written; the hand writing was delicately
old fashioned, and the letters post-
marked from various towns and cities.
The first came to me from Paris, and
called my attention, courteously, to a
slight grammatical error in my novel
"The Mutable Many" giving chapter
and page. I looked the matter up and
found that Mr. Ball w^as correct. I
wrote and thanked him for his interest,
and forgot all about it. "The Countess
Tekla" appeared, and John Ball wrote
me from Vienna pointing out that the
weapons I had put into the hands of
my fighting men, were not in use, his-
torically speaking, at the time I had
chosen for the action of my romance.
Again, looking up authorities, I found
that Mr. Ball was right and I was
wrong. I answered his letter, acknowl-
edging my mistake and adding that I
would be glad to meet him if he ever
came to London.
He did come to London — was, as it
developed, a Londoner — and I had
many letters from him, for as regularly
as story or novel of mine left the press,
just so regularly came a letter from
John Ball remarking, delicately, upon
some error or anachronism — a French
quotation too modern for the time of
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
65
the story, a social usage or custom too
old. Again and again, I wrote Mr. Ball
expressing my desire to know a gentle-
man of such erudition, asking that he
would name the time and place and
adding that in order that I might have
the pleasure of meeting him, I would
make my convenience suit his.
Finally I received a letter written
from the London Travellers Club, call-
ing my attention to a flaw in the amber
of "Over The Border". I was at home
at Hillhead, in Surrey, and wrote at
once, inviting Mr. Ball to dine with me,
on a certain day of the following week,
at my club in London. To my delight,
the invitation was accepted, and the
day before the dinner I was planning
for my critical friend I went in to Lon-
don to make all arrangements for his
entertainment. Late in the evening —
after the play in fact — I went to my
city office to look over some proof
sheets. The building was dark and
evidently, as was to be expected, ten-
antless. I let myself in at the street
door with my pass key, and climbed the
two long flights of stairs, one directly
above the other, that led to my office
on the third floor. I had carefully
closed the outer door that locked with a
spring lock, and heard it click in fasten-
ing, but I recalled later, that I had
leaned over the bannisters and, looking
down into the corridor where I had
lighted a gas jet and left it dimly
burning, assured myself that the door
was shut.
I worked at my desk until the bells of
the great city rang out the hour of mid-
night. Yawning, I began to put away
my papers, when I was startled by a
knock at the door, I crossed the room
and flung it open. Standing without
was the figure of a tall man wrapped in a
loose, military cloak and wearing a
broad hat. I had a vague impression
of dark eyes and a pallid face.
He said, "Mr. Robert Barr, I believe?
I am John Ball."
Impulsively, I put out my hand.
"Come right in Mr. Ball, I am de-
lighted— "
But he interrupted me, "I must ask
you to excuse me. I can not stay a
moment. I came to say that I am
sorry, but I shall be unable to dine
with you tomorrow. At once he moved
away, too swiftly for me to remonstrate.
The light from my office faintly illumi-
nated the corridor and I followed my
visitor to the stairway; leaning over the
bannisters I watched him as he pro-
ceeded with a curious gliding motion
down the two flights of stairs and dis-
appeared into the London streets.
Disappointed, and chagrined at the
elusive Mr. Ball I went back to my desk
and began to lock up my papers.
Suddenly it occurred to me that the
door into the building was locked and
it was with a curious, creepy feeling
that I descended the stairs and sought
my London lodgings.
The following morning, as I sipped
my coffee and looked over the news-
paper, my eye was caught by this item :
"Died suddently, last night at mid-
night, John Ball, at his apartments at
the Travellers' Club,"
^
*'The purest joy,
Most near to heaven, far from earth's alloy,
Is bidding clouds give way to sun and shine,''
66
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE STRENGTH OF THE HILLS
RICHARD BEARDSLEY lowered
the bamboo screen before the
doorway of his small mountain lodge,
shutting out the glare of the waning sun,
and settled himself comfortably, his
gaze going past the screened doorway
to the eastern window from which he
could watch long purple shadows gath-
ering beneath the drooping branches at
the waters edge.
The scene was one of rare beauty,
very peaceful and very still. Twilight
descended slowly upon the mountain, a
gracious lady in flowing purple robes
held together by the blazing jewel of
the setting sun. Leaves rustled sooth-
ingly as if to the measure of some
sylvan lullaby.
Beardsley, closing tired eyes in the
restful half shadows of the lodge, found
it hard to realize that a busy world was
buying and selling at the very door of
this wondrous temple of peace and
solitude. The small lodge was to him
a shrine at which he worshiped Nature
in all of her majesty. Here he brought
his many perplexities, asked counsel of
the hills, the streams, and the trees,
and drawing on the fullness of their
strength went back to his world again,
new-clothed and satisfied.
Beardsley had lived a busy life, a
life in which women had no place or
part. But now he found the grim ogre of
business which had long been his master
thrust aside by a clinging, light-fingered
Dream from which there was no escap-
ing and from which, indeed, he did not
wish to escape. A chance evening spent
(By Zoe Kincaid Brockman)
as an unwilling guest in Annette Holmes'
fountain-sprayed, rose-scented tea-gar-
den had left him drunken as with wine.
Wine of youth, long stagnant, beat at
his pulses and brightened his eye.
Business becam e buta S3rie3 of method-
ical transactions to him, and he sought
the tea-garden often.
Annette was his partner's wife, many
years her husband's junior, elusive and
alluring. In her Beardsley recognized a
new type, a woman such as he could
never have even dreamed, had his well
trained mind been at any time the play-
ground of dreams. The smooth-haired,
shirt-waisted stenographers of his city
acquaintance, and the pink-cheeked
small town girls of his remembrance
were swept from his horizon as pawns
from a board.
Beardsley saw Annette many times
after their first eventful meeting. An-
nette's husband, grown accustomed to
Beardsley's repeated refusal of all social
invitations, expressed to his wife some
surprise at the alacrity with which
invitations to their home were now
accepted by him. He had laughingly
remarked on one of these occasions that
Beardsley was coming out of his shell
and would perhaps one day be a veritable
social lion. Annette had smiled a little
and had afterwards repeated the remark
to Beardsley, busying herself the while
in selecting a particularly inviting sprig
of mint for his frosted tea-glass. After
that Beardsley refused an invitation
now and then, but lived in a fever of
unrest away from her.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
67
Annette had never told him of her
unhappiness by word or sign, but he
was quick to read it in the wistful
sweetness of her mouth, the pain-
shadowed depths of her eyes. Holmes
was a brusque man, not given to love
making, with whom money getting was
a passion, and Annette was very young.
There was no child to hold the sorry
fabric of a mistaken marriage together.
Thus, without the medium of spoken
word, Annette knew that Beardsley
loved her, and he, with intoxicating
joy and unspeakable pain, knew that
his love was returned.
Without a word to her he had come
away to his shrine to bare his heart to
Mother Earth and to ask of her her
wholesome counsel.
Twilight deepened into night. The
sun-jewel, sunken into the small streams'
shining bed, turned the peaceful waters
into a sheet of living flame. Close to
the window a huge branch of laurel,
heavy with bloom, nodded and smiled
from the yawning depths of a quaint
jar of Indian pottery. Strange how the
delicate beauty of the mountain flower
brought Annette's witching personality
before him, its petals fragile as her
beauty, its branches sturdy as her soul.
She would be walking in the garden
now, flower-sweet and alone. Annette
had told him wuth childish sweetness
that she loved to watch the flowers to
sleep. Annette loved soft brightness,
moonlight and roses and dew. She
would be wearing the lavender gown
and amethyst-studded pins, sparkling in
the moonlight, would arch small rain-
bows above the glinting masses of her
red-gold hair. An amethyst star would
twinkle and glow at her throat. How
he had envied that star, always with
her, always so near! What a curiously
pulsing throat was hers, and how
softly beautiful. An exquisite pain.
gripped at his heart. All the primitive
instincts of the cave-man grew rife
within him. He had come to this soli-
tude to decide what he must do with
his love for Annette, and now he knew!
She was his, Bernard Holmes had no
right to her! What did he care for but
money bags and account books? He,
Beardsley, would bring her away to this
mountain place and they would live
and love and she should know happiness
and joy and peace. Annette, fashioned
of moonlight and rose-pink forget-me-
nots. . . .
Back in the city he had, in a moment
of madness, infuriated at the suave
baldness, the placid rotundity, the coolly
calculating mentality of the man —
together with the fact that he was
Annette's husband — thought of asking
him, man to man, to divorce Annette.
What did even a divorce matter now?
Divorces were matters of business, and
he hated business. The whole world
seemed to slip away from him, leaving
him that one woman, his mate. What
were laws and codes and conventions?
Love was greater than all of these, and
Annette loved him.
A great tawny winged moth fluttered
against his window a moment, and then
winged its graceful way through the
dew-drenched night. Beardsley, rising,
leaned from the window^ to follow its
flight. Light-fingered breezes ruffled his
hair and cooled his tortured brow. How
peaceful the night, how calm! Majestic
peaks rose high above him, proud be-
neath their coronet of trees. How small
and insignificant the man-built world
became! Man must build churches and
make laws because men are weak, and
the world must live by laws or fall.
Nothing was here, in this temple away
from the world, but the rocks that God
bad placed with His hand, the strength
68
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
that He had breathed from His nos-
trils.
Calmly immovable, majestically
serene they stood, those shadowy peaks.
The spirit of the hills brooked above
him, the strength of the hills encom-
passed him about. He had been weak
but a moment since, had lost grip upon
himself, had cried out for that which
was forever beyond his reach. What
would Annette have thought of his
passion, Annette, whose soul was as
pure as the white clouds above the
mist-clad hills? Annette loved him —
her sweet eyes meeting his, proud and
unafraid, had told him this — but An-
nette would never have led her soul
into the high places as he had done,
offering to it the world of love at the
price of all else.
"Whom God hath joined together" —
and here where God's foot-prints might
almost be, he had resolved to ask An-
nette to break those bonds! His calm
reasoning left no question as to what
her answer would have been. Annette
did not love her husband, but she would
be very true, very gentle, very tender,
so long as they both should live. An-
nette had promised this "in the pres-
ence of God and these witnesses" and
she, his beloved, would keep her promise.
And, had it been possible for her to
break it, could he have been happy,
thus, even with Annette? Could a
man-broken marriage and these same
vows repeated anew have left him free
and happy to call her his own? His
heart said no. He had sinned many
times, made grave mistakes, suffered
heartbreaking misery, but he had known
no pain so great as that which would
have been his portion in years to come
had he asked of Annette the setting
aside of her husband.
Annette should never know of his
weakness. She knew that he loved
her, that was enough. He would go
back sometimes to her world and his,
see her again, touch, perhaps, her cool
expressive finger tips — but always in
the spirit of sweet fellowship which
Annette would understand. This hour
would come to him again with all of
its fierce longing, its wnld unreasoning,
its stupefying pain — but then, as now,
he would lift up his eyes unto the hills
and their peace would descend upon him.
He stood at the window long. Stars
paled, shadows lifted. The moon faded
to a rim of silver which seemed to frame
the ethereal beauty of Annette's face,
wonderful in its smile of love and per-
fect understanding.
I see my way as birds their trackless way;
I shall arrive — what time, what circuit first,
I ask not.
In some time. His good time, I shall arrive;
He guides me, and the bird. In his good time.
— Robert Browning.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
69
A VISIT TO ^MAMMY^'
MEMORIES OF THE SIXTIES
(By Joseph Riddick Estes.)
T OOK, see who dat at de doar." I
^-^ heard a voice say from the inside,
as I knocked at the door of a small
cabin "down in de quarter" one cold
morning in November, some years ago,
up in Granville county. North Carolina.
Before the order could be obeyed, I
had stepped inside, and as I did so I
saw sitting before a large open fireplace,
an old negro woman of the ante-bellum
type, dressed in a homespun cotton
dress, white apron and the usual ban-
dannah on her head, also a small cape
(that I had seen before) thrown about
her shoulders. She was at one end of
the fireplace, and at the other was a
young girl of some ten or twelve years.
The former seemed very intent on
mending a garment of some description.
The latter was doing double duty by
trying to look at the pictures of an old
magazine, and "parching coffee" in an
oven which sat before the fire upon
three legs, more commonly called among
the negroes a "skillet." As I stood
there, the old woman raised her hand
to her eyes to break the light between
myself and the door. She threw the
garment to one side, and arose as rapidly
as her poor old frame would admit, and
with arms outstretched, exclaimed:
"Fore de Lord, ef hit haint Mars Bill.
Mis Louisa's chile, what dun cum ter
see he's po' ole mammy. Cum here
hunnie en let yo' po' ole mammy hug
yo' good. I'se so proud ter see yo'. I
had a 'zentment las night dat sum'ting
go'na happen, en when dat jay bird flew
over de house yis ti-day wid dat pine
bark in he's mouf (yo' kno's hunnie, de
kwars pine bark ter hell every Friday)
I jest kno'd hit was som'tin' out'en de
ordinary. How yo' does favor Ole Mis
Chile. When you stepped in de door,
'peared lack hit were her what dun cum
ter see old Ma'liza. Yo ole mammy is
so glad ter see yo' an "
Her voice quivered with emotion and
she could say no more. She seemed
overcome at the sight of me. I tried
to say something that would bring a
change, but somehow, there was a knot
in my own throat that would not go
down. So I stood there watching her
while much of the past came back.
Scene after scene went by of the long
ago. I could see the negroes happy in
their life on the farm; the coming and
going among them in the quarter, never
dreaming of the days that were to
come, and what they would bring to us
all; then the strange breaking up of the
old home; the scattering of both whites
and blacks to the four corners of the
earth; the news that came from the
battle of Petersburg, in which my
father fell, and which was too much for
my dear mother, for she soon followed
him. Then began the struggle of life
for us children that were left; and in
that struggle no one proved more faith-
ful, loyal and true than "mammy," who
at that moment sat weeping by my side.
All this time, the child at the other
70
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
end of the fireplace sat as if in a trance;
she seemed turned to stone, except that
her eyes danced back and forth from
one to the other of us. Still at a loss
for something to say to "Ma'liza" that
might cheer her up a little, I turned to
the child and asked, "What is your
name?" She looked up with a start
and quickly replied, " I'se Jessie; day
calls me little Jessie, en um's her gran-
chile," nodding her head toward "Mam-
my." "You her grand child?" said I.
"Yes, ser," came the quick response,
almost before I had asked the question.
"Which one of 'Mammy's' children
was your mother?" I asked. "I dun-no,
sir, I ain't neer had no mammy, is I
no's un, sep' Granny dar." This
seemed to open the way for us all, and
old "Ma'liza" having recovered from
her fit of weeping, spoke up:
"Is you dun forget my Jessie, chile?
She en you was borned de same year.
Yas, lem me see. Yas, you was born de
secon Tuesday 'fore de third Friday in
August, en my Jessie was born on Sun-
day mornin' 'fore Christmas day, dat
same year. I members hit well, hun-
nie, es ef hit had ben las' night, fer Ole
Miss (dat's your mother, chile,) cum
over ter de quarter en fetched a lot o'
baby clothes wid her, en said, 'Ma'liza,
what is you gwine to name de baby?'
And I sed. Old Mis, you's all'ers named
my chillun.' Den she said 'We gwi
call her Jessie.' En I axed her ef hit
were a Bible name and she said 'Yes.'
Cause all tothers had been named out'en
de Bible. You all played together, hun-
nie. "
"Yes," said I. "I remember them all
very well, and thought this must be
Jessie's child, from the name she bore."
"But, whar's you bin all dis time,
hunnie, en whar did you cum from?"
"I live at Birmingham, mammy, but
I am from Atlanta here." This seemed
to fire the old soul up, from some cause,
which she hastened to explain. "Did
you say 'lanta, chile?"
"Yes, mammy did you ever hear
of that place or know any one there?"
"Well," said she, "I should say I is.
Is you ever hearn tell uv er nigger dere
by de name of Lige Loyal? He were
wun uv dese preacher niggers, and he
say he cum from 'lanter. You no, I
aint much on niggers no how, cause I
were raised in de great'ouse — My Ole
Miss raised me — this she said more to
herself than to me, and I all'ers were er
white folks nigger. Every nigger 'bout
here were kwar'in on 'bout Bruther
Loyal, dis, dat and tuther, en Bruther
Primus Hunt who were de 'zide-en
elder enduring dat time, hear about dis
preacher nigger bein' in de naberhood,
and thar were a 'tracted meetin' gwine
on up to Shilo meeting 'ouse, en — "
"Fore Gawd, ef dat gal ain't sot dar,
en let dat coffee burn plum up, en dat's
de las grain Mis Margaret had to spar,
'twill we gits thru getherin' corn, an'
kin git a mule to sen ter town. Git up
fum dar yo black wench, yo' know'd I
has de head ake when I can't git my
coffee, I gli beat you en how en — "
"Well, erbout dat preacher nigger.
He cum ter de meetin' en my Jessie, she
were wun un de moaners, en fact, she
cum thu endurin' dat meeting. Well,
hunnie, as soon es dat 'lanter nigger sot
eyes on Jessie, he got plum 'side hisself
'bout her. He cum home wid her wun
day, en arter he gone, I axed her what
he cum here fer, en she said, 'He wants
ter marry me. Mammy.' I said ter
her, you better let dat town nigger 'lone
you don't know nuthin' bout him, whar
he gwin' ner whar he cum from, and
'sides, I sey, what you gwi tell Fannie's
Jim, what bin cumin here sents 4th uv
July? I 'speck hit ain't treatin' him
rite. You muther raised me chile, an'
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
71
I don't want nobody ter 'scuse me uv
doin' rong. Well, she sorter promis she
gwi let him go, en when he cum ergin,
she ups en tells him not ter cum back
no more. En, hunnie, he gits up en
goes strait to ole Sookie Bagley's, she
keeps kunjer bags, en he gits wun, and
she tole him ter git er black cat's bone,
en rake hit across his eyes seben times
an ebery t'ing come all rite. My Jessie
hear about hit, and when dat nigger
cum here ergin, Jessie jes' fell in er
dead faint en I so feared she gwi git
kungered and die, I gin my promis' she
could have him. You know, hunnie, she
were all I had lef in dis wurl, and I
so fraid she gwi die, jes' I had to say
yas."
"But I tole dem dey had ter be mar-
ried up 'ter de great 'ouse, 'acuse all ye
yuthers had ben married up dere, en
Mis Margaret wud feel hurt ef Jessie
didnt. I were m'arried rite in Ole Mis'
parlor every time. Yo no, hunnie, I'se
been married three times. I married
Abner, dat were yo pa's kerrage driver,
de fust time, en Ole Mis gin us de
biggest supper uv eny niggers what got
married endurin her time. She tole
Anber dat night, she gwi lib ter kill
'im if he ever lay de wait uv his han'
on me, er harm er hair in my head, en — "
"Well, hunnie, my Jessie married dat
nigger preacher, en hit tuck place up to
de great'ouse. Mis Margaret dun
her 'self proud, en everybody said he
were er nice nigger, en all dat, but I
had my spission cause he showed de
white uvhis eye, an Ole Mars all'ers
did sell er mule what dun dat. Well,
de had bin married 'bout wun year,
when wun day, sum officers cum from
Burninham — I don't know whar dat is,
but de tells me hits mos to Alabam' —
an' rested him an tuck him er'way."
"What was the trouble? What did
they charge him with?" I asked.
" I dun no chile, but hit put my Jessie
in her grabe. De said he had er wife
an' chillun bof in Burninham an 'lanter.
I jes 'tell yo' chile, er nigger preacher
is de las anni-mule on dis yearth ter
truss, an I — "
"Did he never prove his innocence?"
T asked, "and where is he now?"
"I dun-no chile, but hit put my
Jessie in her grabe. You's er thought she
were a white 'oman, de way my Jessie
carried on, she tuck hit so hard. I
know'd hit were 'cause de white folks
raised her. He had bin 'rested 'bout er
month, when she tuck sick, an de day
'fore she died hunnie, dat little gal over
dere cum. Jes' soon es Mis Margaret
got wurd, she cum rite over to de
quarter en fetched all uv little William's
baby close. She tuck de baby in her
arms en sed, 'Mammy, what is we gwi
name her?' En I sed, you an Ole Mis
is named dem all an now dat she's gone,
'tis fer you to do. Den she said, 'We
gwi call her Jessie, fer her mammy,
what layin' dar on de coolin' bode, an — "
"She was your youngest child, I be-
lieve, Mammy?"
"Yes, hunnie, en my las, fer de good
Lawd had seen fitten ter take dem all
but her, an — er, er. Didn't Mis Mar-
garet write yo' 'bout hit? I thought
sho she wuld er dun hit."
"I am sure she did, Mammy, but
that has been some twelve years ago,
and I had forgotten about it. I have
never heard of a negro, either at At-
lanta or Birmingham, by the name of
Lige Loyal, but when I get back I will
see — "
"Well, de good Lawd sont dat little
gal ter take her Mammy's place, an'
dis ole nigger don know how she ever
git 'long 'doubt her, fer I — . Dey ain't
but wun thing 'bout her dat shows her
daddy's side uv de house, es Ole Mis
uster say, and dat is ter dress an'
72
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
strut 'round. Every time I ketches her
at hit, I makes her cum in en sot down.
I'se so glad to see you, hunnie. How
long you gwi stay?"
"I shall be going tomorrow. Mammy,
but I felt I must run over to the quarter
and see you before I left."
" Whar is you gwine frum here, chile?"
"Back to Birmingham, and I can't
say when I shall come this way again.
By the way. Mammy, Margaret wants
you to be sure to come up to the house
and see us all tomorrow. Come early
and spend the day, and we will finish
talking about old times."
I found that my time was growing
short, and I got up to leave, with her
promise, which was, " I gwi do my best,
but hits bin er long time sense I bin up
dar. I'se so 'flicted with room'tiz dat
I can't git 'bout much. De last time I
were up dar, it were when our little
William died. He were Mis Margaret's
oldes, en named fer yo pa. You see she
has nussed him 'twill she were plum
broke down, en she sont de kerrage fer
me. I looked out and seed hit comin'
over de hill. Silas were drivin' ole Tom
en Jerry lack he tryin' to bust de road
open. I jes know'd sumpin 'were wrong.
So I tole Jessie to hurry en git my white
aprons and clean head rags, en when
dat kerrage stopped at de doar, I
stepped rite in. Den I axed Silas whar
ailed dem up to de great'ouse, en he
said, 'Our little William were a mighty
sick chile, en Mis Margaret sey cum
quick. Den I say, ' You's er fool, nigger;
ain't I in here gwin hard es I kin?"
But hunnie, hit put me in mind uv de
time when you wuz so sick. It was just
after the surrender. You wuz so sick
dat nobody couldn't do nuthin' wid you.
Yo pa, say de change was 'blige ter cum
dat night. So I goes in de nussery, en
axes de Good Lawd to spar yo' life.
'Bout dat time you 'gun ter fret, en
Ole Marse say, 'Gimem sum paragorick,
but Ole Mis tuck you up en put you in
my lap, en sed, 'Yo take him Ma'liza,
fer yo arms got mo paragorick in 'um den
all de poth'kery shops in North Kalina.
En hunnie, yo went ter sleep in dese
black arms, en I mos cramped, cause I
sot all night en never moved, kase I
didn't want to wake you, en bout time
fust rooster crowed for day, Ole Mars
cum en looked at yo en said, ' De change
is fer de bes, Ma'liza; he gwi git well.'
En I sed 'Praise Gawd. Amen.' Fer I
know'd ef yo was ter die, hit'd kill Ole
Mis. Yo were her favorite chile, en
named for you grand-pa over in ole
Ferginnie."
"Well, Mammy, I must be going now.
I suppose you will be over to the house
tomorrow?"
"Ef I lib, nuthing happen, keep my
health, en hit don't rain, I'll sho be dere."
"But hunnie, I were jest gwi to tell
you 'bout de las time I were up to de
gret'ouse. Hit were when our little
William died. When I got out'n de
kerrage, an went in. Mis Margaret put
him in my lap an' I hilt him 'twell de
las bref lef his little body, and den I
closed his eyes. Hit like to kilt Mis
Margaret. She cum'd en put her arms
'round dis ole black neck uv mine, and
laid her haid on my shoul'er, en said,
'Mammy, what is I gwi do now dat
my baby is dun gone?' 'Well, hunnie,
I jes didn't no what ter say, and when
I tried to talk, my tung dun paralyzed,
when all at once Ole Mis 'peared 'fore
me, when I said, 'Don't take hit so
hard, chile. I 'speck Miss Louisa cum
en tuck him herself, she lubbed him so
en longed arter him 'fore she went ter
heaben. En I said, 'Jes think uv dat
sweet little chile gwin in at de Golden
Gates, en de fust thing he axes Ole
Mars Peter was. 'Whar is my grand-
mother at?" En he say, 'Jes go right
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
73
up to de throne, she is right at it; she
wun uv de chosen few what has a seat
right at de Marster's feet.' Den Mis
Margaret seem ter feel better. She is
sho dar, chile, rite at de throne, en her
crown is full'er stars. She is got one
for me; fer she showed me de way to de
Marster. En when she cum ter die, she
sed, 'Maliza, you do jes as I has tole
yo, take keer my chillun an meet me
on de yuther side. I promise her I wud
an I'sa jeswaitin' fer de Marster's call."
I left that cabin thinking if more of
us were only half as good and as pure
as that dear patient old soul, how much
more happiness there would be in this
world.
We all spent a pleasant day, and be-
fore any one realized how late it was,
it was time for me to go. I bade them
all farewell and left for my home in
Alabama, where in the rounds of life,
one has to lose sight of the days gone
by.
I did not think of the old home again
until one day the postman handed me
a letter postmarked, Townesville, N. C.
My Dear B—
Must I tell you that dear old Mammy
is no more? She passed peacefully away
on the 24th, just three days ago. She
suffered a great deal, but was an example
to all, in patience to the end. Virginia
and I prepared her for burial; it was her
request that no negroes be allowed to
do so. We followed her to her grave,
and there left the rest with Him, in
whose hands all things are well done.
Just before she died she took my hands
in hers and said, "When I get up there,
chile, I am going right up to the throne
and ask for Ole Mis, and I am going to
tell her how good you have all been to
me." We thought the end had come
but after a pause, she opened her eyes
again and said "Mis Margaret, does yo
know, I will spend Christmas day in
heaven termorrow, and I 'speck ter set
and talk to Ole Mis — " That was the
last. W^e can imagine the rest. Thus,
one more leaf of the Old South has fallen
to the ground. I can never love or
respect another negro as I did her, for
those of the old South are passing
rapidly away, and the new has none
worthy of filling their places.
Your devoted sister,
"MARGARET."
"Will winter never be over?
Will the dark days never go,
Must the buttercup and clover
Be always hid under the snow?
Oh, loan me your little ear, love;
Hark to a beautiful thing;
The weariest month of the year, love,
Is shortest and nearest the Spring."
74
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE PRIZE PICTURE
^
(By S. Elizabeth)
PPDITH BLAKE dropped into her
-*— -' chair with a sigh of exhaustion,
more tired, she thought, than she had
ever been before. Stenography, in
which ten years of hard work had made
her proficient, seemed play compared
to nursing. Her father had been ill
now for three months, and, in order to
devote herself to him, she had resigned
her position as head stenographer in
one of Mappin Ferris' departments.
As she rested in her father's old chair,
she was thinking of what the doctor
had told her that day. She felt no
regret in anticipating her father's death,
which she knew would be a happy
release from suffering; but she was
anxious lest his illness might out-last
her ability to provide him with neces-
sary comforts.
Never before, had she realized the
advantage of money in cases of illness
and how^ it alone furnished the nurses,
the highest medical skill, the delicacies
and the many mechanical appliances for
the comfort and cure of the sick. Many
problems crowded her brain this even-
ing and she began to thrash out again
the old argument of love versus money.
She was too tired to get far beyond the
starting point, and as she repeated to
herself, "money without love is un-
thinkable, yet love without money is
disastrous," her eye fell upon the last
copy of Mirth, sent by a friend. She
picked it up and turned the pages list-
lessly until she came to the one devoted
to the picture contest which was a
feature of this new Chicago weekly.
She studied the picture for a few
minutes, half-wondering if she knew
any "printed lines" which would ex-
plain it, and then suddenly turned and
took from a near-by bookshelf a collec-
tion of old songs and poems. In a
short time she had found the poem she
sought and copied the lines which she
decided to send in competition for the
prize.
"There is no harm in trying," she
said half aloud; "and it is certainly an
easy way to get a hundred dollars.
Perhaps Corinne sent me the paper
with that in mind."
Remembering she had not thanked
this friend for several attentions, she
decided to write her without further
delay. She found rest and relief in
pouring out to an old and sympathetic
friend some of the feelings born of her
recent experiences. After telling her
about competing for the prize, she
wrote: "If the editor of Mirth could
know how much I need that hundred
dollars, he would surely decide upon
my quotation. But I have always been
sceptical about such prizes ever leaving
the office. You know how' often the
prize winner lives in Oshkosh, Kala-
mazoo, or some outlandish town where
no one has friends."
Hearing her father cough, she ended
her letter abruptly to go to him, and
when she returned, she hurriedly sealed
and stamped the two letters and put
them in the hall for the janitor of the
apartment to mail.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
75
During the next two weeks she was
so engrossed with the care of her father
that she thought of little else; and when,
the very day before he died, she received
a letter from Mirth with a cheque for
one hundred dollars, she was almost as
surprised as if she had never heard of
the paper. It was hard to believe in
her good fortune; but her feelings was
that of thankfulness rather than of
exultation.
She had no time to wonder what her
friends would say, because every thought
was given to her father; and after he
had died, she was obliged to take his
body to his old home in Indiana for
burial.
As the janitor offered to care for her
small stock of furniture, she determined
to remain a few weeks with the aunt
who still lived in the old homestead,
and who begged her for a visit.
She had been there about a week
when she received a bundle of papers,
forwarded by the janitor. Recognizing
a copy of Mirth, she tore off the wrapper
with excitement, anxious to see her
name in print.
There it was, — her name and address;
but the quotation placed under the
picture was surely not the one she sent, —
unless her memory played her false.
This was possible, as the lines were
from the same poem and from the very
next stanza, as she later ascertained.
Why had he not kept a copy of her
answer? And should she write the
editor for an explanation? She argued
the question back and forth for days
and was constantly haunted by the
feeling that she was wearing undeserved
honors. Soon there came a letter from
Corinne which threw light — but a most
unwelcome light — on the subject. After
congratulating Edith on her good for-
tune, she went on to say that she had
sent her that number of Mirth hoping
she would enter the contest, and had
been waiting to hear from her. When
an empty envelope arrived she was sure
the escaped letter would soon follow,
but it had never appeared.
"Never appeared? An empty en-
velope" thought Edith, "I remember
writing Corinne. It was the very
evening I sent the quotation to Mirth.
Could I have put the two letters in
one envelope? Could I have done such
a stupid thing? And what was in that
letter?"
As she gradually recalled all that she
had written Corinne that evening — of
her ambitions and failures, her hopes
and anxieties, and finally, what she had
said about the editor deciding in her
favor if he knew her need, she bent her
head in confusion and mortification.
Tears came to her eyes as she realized
the truth of what her lips were repeat-
ing, "He did it out of pity". Then she
grew angry — angry at herself for com-
mitting to paper her foolish hopes, and
angry at the editor for not having used
the lines she sent.
"They evidently wern't good enough
for his picture," she thought, "so he
substituted some that suited him better,
and simply made me a present of the
hundred dollars. And what has he
thought of me for keeping silent?"
In the light of her present knowledge
she would see how the editor had given
her the money without saying that she
had won it, and she read again: "The
quotation best suited for the picture, in
our estimation, is the one we have placed
under it. The prize money has already
been sent to Miss Edith Blake, 1033
Oak St. Chicago."
Every time she looked at her bank
book during the remainder of her visit,
her determination to return the money
weakened, and her anger increased.
What was a hundred dollars to that
76
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
miserable editor! She would wait until
she had earned the money and mean-
while, find out something about him
and learn if the accepted quotation
were really hers. This last thought,
that possibly she had sent those lines,
always brought her consolation, which
she tried to convert into courage, now
that she found herself travelling back to
Chicago.
With her experience and references
she knew she would not be idle long,
should she decide not to return to Ferris'.
While looking through the columns of
"Wants" in the morning paper she
stopped breathless — as if she had been
running — when her eye caught the
words, "Mirth wants at once an A No. 1
Lady Stenographer."
"Lady Stenogrrapher — I suppose that's
meant to be funny, but, — "
Of course, she would apply for the
position. Here was her opportunity to
learn something about the editor and
possibly why the prize was awarded to
her. She would reach Chicago in time
to make her application that afternoon,
although she scarcely dared hope that
the position had not been filled. She
was busily occupied planning the details
of what promised to be an exciting ad-
venutre, when a man across the aisle
hurried from the train leaving in the
seat a copy of Mirth. It seemed a
strange coincidence, but nothing could
surprise her now. Her fate seemed
linked to that paper in spite of its
incongruous name, and she reached over
for the cast-off copy with a sense of
proprietorship. But she was not proof
against surprises, after all. Here was
the answer to another prize picture —
one that had come out during her
absence from the city. The picture rep-
resented a man standing with his hand
on the neck of a tigress, which he had
evidently subdued single-handed, and
beneath it, as the selected answer, was
the quotation she had sent in last
month — or the one she intended to
send. What did it mean? And was
the prize to be hers again? No, it had
gone, by the same clever wording, to
Mary Smith, Oshkosh, the dumping
place for fatuous prize winners which
she had always considered it. She had
no time to study this latest phase of
the drama, in which she was beginning
to see herself the central figure, before
the train pulled into the station. There
was not even time to reconsider her
determination to apply for the position
with Mirth; if she wanted it she must
hurry — tomorrow^ would certainly be
too late.
In spite of her haste and excitement
she entered Mirth's office with a quiet,
business-like air. After explaining to a
clerk that her late application was due
to her recent arrival in the city, she
asked the requirements of the position.
He told her that Mr. Sherwood, owner
and head editor of the paper, wanted
what he called a "live stenographer" to
act as his private secretary, work fast
and hard, never make a complaint, or
ask a question. "He's all right; but he
has notions and isn't afraid to express
them. And you know what a lot of
poor stenographers there are afloat
these days. Mr. Sherwood will try all
who apply before six o'clock; so take a
seat, please, till the young lady, who is
in his room now, comes out."
She was not too late, after all; and if
this was a competition in skill and speed,
she stood an excellent chance of being
the "A No. L stenographer" required
by this exacting editor.
Presently, a door opened and a very
pretty girl stepped into the outer office.
She smiled with an air of confidence as
she passed the clerk, who accepted the
smile and good-humoredly asked. "What
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
77
luck"? But Edith did not hear the
girl's answer, for the editor, who had
followed her, exclaimed, "Another such
fool and I quit!" Then, seeing Edith,
and hearing the clerk explain her pres-
ence, he added qiuckly, "Step into this
room, please, I'll be there in a minute."
Now, she felt, had come her hour of
victory. She would compel this most
peculiar of editors to engage her as his
private secretary and learn something
of his methods in distributing prizes to
the unworthy poor and to the unknown
dwellers of Oshkosh. Then when she
had satisfied herself that she had been
an object of his chairty, she would re-
turn the hundred dollars with a high-
handed note and leave his employ,
threatening to expose him to the public.
It all looked so simple and she was
feeling so sure of the outcome, when
she heard him say, "The clerk neg-
lected to take your name and address.
Please state them."
Taken by surprise, she started to give
her own name, but remembered in time
to alter it quickly to "Miss Bl — air".
The name which she had decided to use
failed her completely; but she regained
her composure to explain that she had
just arrived in Chicago and had no
permanent address, beyond the tem-
porary one of Hotel Blatchford.
"Then you have had no experience in
Chicago? I make a point of city ref-
erences."
" I do not see how references can help
a stenographer, — her quickness in tak-
ing down rapidly-spoken words, and
her ability to spell correctly can be
easily ascertained. A woman's char-
acter is good until proven bad, and a
stenographer has no access to the money
drawer. Will you put me through the
mill now? It is growing late."
Silenced, Mr. Sherwood looked hard
at this unusual young woman, and
handing her paper and pencil, said, "I
will dictate."
He then proceeded to pour out words
as fast as he could articulate them,
walking about the room with watch in
hand. At the end of five minutes he
stopped. "I think that will do, — type
what you've written, please."
Edith made no remark, but seating
herself at the typewriter nearest her,
wrote out the notes she had taken and
handed him the sheets.
"Count the words, please."
"Five hundred and sixty," she re-
plied.
"Five hundred and sixty words in
five minutes — big words, too, many of
them. That's good — that's the best to-
day; but I must wait until six o'clock
and give every applicant a chance. Call
in the morning, will you, Miss Blake —
excuse me — Blair, you said. I've had
some dealings with a Miss Blake re-
cently, and she's been more or less in
my mind. Pardon my mistake."
Was it her own voice she heard
saying "Certainly, Mr. Sherwood, — the
names are alike. But you have for-
gotten to mention w^hat salary you pay
your stenographer."
"Salary? Of course, she has to have
a salary, but not a larger one than she's
worth. I would offer you a hundred
dollars the first month, and increase it
to a hundred and fifty by the sixth
month. You see, I don't want to change
often; and I prefer to pay by the month. .
Is that satisfactory?"
As she looked up to answer she saw
for the first time, that he did not appear
at all the cranky editor he had been
represented, but was a fine looking, even
handsome man of about forty. He was
holding her type-written sheets and
smiling as he looked them over.
78
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
"I see you've omitted the expletives
of which I made use. Didn't you ap-
prove of them ? ' '
"I neither approved nor disapproved.
I recognized them as helps to composi-
tion, but unnecessary to the subject in
hand. Did you wish them put down.?"
"Did I wish them put down? No, I
did not, but you are the first idiot — I
mean the first woman to-day who wasn't
idiot enough to take them all down and
put them in cold type. If my terms
suit you, Miss Blair, the position is
yours. It is now ten minutes to six
and there isn't time to test another ap-
plicant, unless she's already waiting."
But no one was waiting, and Edith
walked out into the street as the head
stenographer in the ofilice of Mirth, and
private secretary of the editor in chief.
With the step of a conqueror, she
entered the Blatchford Hotel, and wrote
her recently assumed name as easily as
if it had always been hers, and did not
hesitate to follow it with "Kalamazoo".
After a busy evening spent in secur-
ing a room in a comfortable boarding
house, she returned to the hotel ready
for the heavy sleep which soon engulfed
all her forebodings and brought her the
refreshment she so much needed.
Her duties in the office of Mirth kept
her there the whole of every day, and
lessened the chance of meeting old
friends, from whom it was part of her
plan to remain hidden. Living under
an assumed name possessed many ad-
vantages and furnished latent excite-
ment, and she began to think she might
develop a dual personality if she con-
tinued the life long.
She had been working for Mr. Sher-
wood about a week, when the subject of
the prize picture came up for discus-
sion. The artist had drawn a picture
which did not suit the editor-in-chief,
and he handed it back, saying, "Try
again. There never was a line printed
that could explain that picture."
"You might print one for it yourself,
then! Ever hear from that Miss Blake?
I felt sure she'd send you back the
money."
"She did the proper thing, I assure
you. As you learned of that affair by
accident I wonder you mention it. . .
Have your drawing ready by evening —
take out that tree and put in a human
figure that tells some kind of a story."
During this conversation, Edith sat
motionless, her typewriter having
stopped at the mention of prize pic-
tures. When she heard her name she
felt her face flush and was thankful that
her back was turned to the speakers.
The other occupants of the office were
busy and apparently gave no heed to
the conversation. Did they all know
what Mr. Sherwood had done? For it
was plain now that he had substituted
a quotation selected by himself and
sent her the prize money, — she could no
longer doubt it. She began to ques-
tion her ability to see the game through
and to regret her foolhardiness in hav-
ing begun it, when Mr. Sherwood asked
her to step into his office and take down
some letters.
After she had finished, he asked,
"Aren't you working a little too hard,
Miss Blair? I notice you stay out but
a short part of the noon hour, and often
work till seven o'clock. You need some
recreation."
"Work never hurt me yet, Mr. Sher-
wood, so don't imagine I'm tired. I
will type these letters, now, please."
When the prize picture came out, and
the office force was joking over a pos-
sible answer, Edith ventured to ask who
decided which was the best quotation
received .
"Why, Mr. Sherwood, of course. He
does the whole thing — reads all the
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
79
answers he can and asks some friends
outside to help him. And when they
get down to what they all consider the
best twenty, he decides on the best one
of these. He will probably ask you to
help him when the answers come in —
and they come right along from the day
the picture's out. Fortunately we
don't get thousands of answers as the
New York magazines do — it's a new
thing here. Parks, the man who draws
the pictures, helps Mr. Sherwood look
at the answers, and he seems interested,
— but not yours truly."
After this long statement, the clerk
turned to his books, while Edith sat
thinking of much that he had said.
And she could not feign surprise, when
later in the day Mr. Sherwood handed
her a bundle of letters, saying, "Answers
to our new picture. If you think any of
them worth considering lay them on
my desk, and destroy the rest."
Her heart beat fast as she obeyed in-
structions, trying not to see beyond
the merits of the answers. With every
woman's name, however, arose a picture
of need, and her own pulses beat in
sympathy with the hope and prayer she
felt accompanied many of the answers.
She had not finished her task when the
clerk handed her another batch of let-
ters, offering condolences, but adding
for her encouragement, "You're the
first stenographer he's ever trusted to
turn down answers without consulting
him. Take it as a compliment."
"Compliment or not," Edith replied,
"It's hard work and I didn't know it
was to be one of my duties."
"Possibly it is not one of your duties.
Miss Blair," said Mr. Sherwood, who
just then opened his door, but I need
help today and looked for it where I
hoped to find it. I will try not to
trouble you again."
Looking up and noticing how ill he
appeared, Edith assured him that she
was quite willing to help him but felt
her inability to decide wisely. "If I
had some idea as to what you thought
should be the answer, it would be
easier."
"Come in here, then, and I will tell
you the thought I have in mind." And
as he explained to her what it was and
his method of deciding to whom the
prize was due, she became very much
interested.
"But think of all the disappointed
persons!" she exclaimed. "I can fairly
hear their cries when I tear up their
answers."
"Yes, that phase of the contest
troubles me, but sympathy has no place
here. Only once did I let it influence
me, and ever since I've questioned
whether I did right. As a rule, all such
contests are conducted honestly, I'm
sure."
"What did you do, Mr. Sherwood?"
"It's a real story book tale: a young
girl, — I think she was young — acci-
dentally sent, with her answer, a letter
she had written to a friend. B}^ this
letter I learned she needed the money, —
sick father, low bank account and all
that. After wrestling with my con-
science, I selected a quotation myself
for the picture, because her's had been
turned down by Parks and Thompson —
and sent her the money."
"No wonder you question having
done right, Mr. Sherwood. The girl
must have felt she was an object of
charity."
"Right or wrong, I did it. As for the
girl, she may never have seen the
paper that printed the answer. I
don't believe she did, for her father
died and she left the city. But when
she comes back I hope to find her, for
ever since she caused me to commit
80
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the first irregular act of my literary
career, she has haunted me. That
sounds story-bookish, but it is true, —
so true in fact that you wouldn't put
it in a story. Since I've told you so
much, I will add that I have made up
my mind to find that young woman and
then — well, when I make up my mind,
things happen, as they'll tell you out
there in the office. But that's all in
the future, — for the present I must
look over these miserable answers. . . .
What were you about to say. Miss
Blair?"
Of all the things that crowded her
mind and threatened to escape her lips,
she decided on a question as being the
safest.
"Does this picture contest pay? . . .
No? Then why continue it? I could
not sleep if I knew hundreds were hop-
ing for money that I could send but
one. Give it up, Mr. Sherwood, do."
"Give it up? It's an advertising
scheme and I must keep it going until
the paper is firmly established. I'm
hoping the young woman to whom I
referred will compete again for a prize
and then I can learn where she is, al-
though the janitor at her old address
agreed to let me know when she re-
turned."
"I'm sure you will hear from her as
soon as she learns the truth. Perhaps
she is earning the hundred dollars in
order to return it."
"By Jove, I never thought of that!
That would be the plucky thing to do —
walk into the office and lay down a
hundred dollar bill with 'There, you
old cheat, I'm no charity patient'.
Wouldn't that be dramatic? I begin
to see a plot for a playlet. Well, to
work, — to work, — and down with jour-
nalism! Don't be shocked, I mean it."
The work of opening answers went
on busily for days and Edith was often
called upon to help. She had gradually
grown hard-hearted, and threw aside
the "fool answers" w4th less and less
concern, while on those which she
returned to Mr. Sherwood she boldly
wrote her opinion.
The day before the contest was to
close, she was too absorbed in her work
to notice Mr. Sherwood start and look
intently at the answers she had given
him, and then draw from his pocket a
paper with which he compared them.
Unconscious of everything but her
present duty, she was startled by hear-
ing him say in a quiet, even tone,
"Miss Blake."
Involuntarily, she raised her head
and partly turned before she remem-
bered where she was, and then resumed
her work with nervous haste.
"Miss Blake, — Blair, I mean, please
stop a minute. How many more of
those letters have you? We must get
down to the best twenty this afternoon
by five o'clock. Parks is coming in to
help and that Mr. Thompson you saw
the other day, and by seven o'clock I
must decide who is to have the prize. . .
It's my opinion I deserve a prize myself,
— or at least, a treat, — and that you
deserve one too. Will you go with me
this evening to see Belasco's new play?"
"I would like to see it, but — "
"No buts, Miss Blair. Won't you
give me this pleasure? And if it prove
a pleasure to you,- we'll repeat it. Will
you go? Look upon it as a duty to get
me out of my rut."
"Yes, thank you, I will go; but it is
so long since I've been to the theatre
that I shan't know how to act. I shall
enjoy it, how^evpr, I'm sure." And
she did.
Fortunately, it was a comedy that
gave her plenty of opportunity to laugh,
and she had been fairly starving for a
good laugh.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
81
Mr. Sherwood looked at her with
more surprise as the evening wore on,
and scarecly recognized in the happy
girl by his side the self-contained
stenographer of his office. He saw
most plainly, however, the girl whom
he felt was destined for him by a fate
beyond the control of either of them.
Consequently, his spirits rose and from
the exacting employer emerged the fine
lover ready with every attention he
dared offer. The happy evening ended
all too soon and they parted abruptly,
with a "See you in the morning" from
Mr. Sherwood, which sounded to Edith
like a "Don't run away to-night."
But wouldn't that be the v/isest
thing to do? The possibility of Love
complicating the little drama she was
acting had never occurred to her, but
here he was ! Should she now claim the
love and protection she knew was
waiting for Edith Blake, or should she
stay and become her rival and win that
love for herself? There came no satis-
factory answers to these self-asked
questions; and conscious of her weak-
ness, she decided to wait a few days for
further developments. And when she
learned the next morning that Mr. Sher-
wood had been called out of town, she
felt that the gods were surely on her
side. In three days her salary would
be due, and then for her coup d'etat!
But where was the exultation with which
she had anticipated striking it? And
could she confess her identity after she
knew of -Mr. Sherwood's sentimental
feeling toward Miss Blake? She owed it
to herself respect, however, to carry
out her plan to the finish; and every
time she read the letter which she had
written to Mr. Sherwood at the begin-
ning of this miserable aflair, she exper-
ienced all the righteous indignation it
expressed and felt convinced that it
should accompany his cheque when she
returned it.
She carried it with her the morning
her salary was due, and in her haste to
have the day over, found herself the
first one in the office. Before she had
removed her hat, a small boy rushed in,
exclaiming, "The janitor's fallen down
the cellar stairs, and looks dead!"
Edith followed his lead, and seeing the
man lying helpless, told the boy to run
for a doctor.
"What doctor, ma'am?"
"Doctor Goodhue, — telephone for him
— number 1069 — and hurry back."
Several persons from the various
offices in the building were helping
Edith care for the unconscious man,
when Doctor Goodhue came running
down the stairs. He glanced at the
man and then at the girl, who was
holding his head in her lap, and ex-
claimed, "Miss Blake, you here? I
didn't know you were back. Let me
take your place now, and we'll soon
have this man comfortable in bed.
Where does he live?"
During the following answers and
directions, Edith rose from her cramped
position and started for the stairs.
When half-way up them, she met Mr.
Sherwood, who passed her with his
customary "Good morning." adding as
he hurried on, "What's happened?"
She stopped for a few seconds to de-
termine whether the doctor's voice
could be heard where she stood. Yes,
she heard every word he was saying!
But surely when he called her by name,
Mr. Sherwood must have been on the
flight above or in the hallway. But what
might not Doctor Goodhue say further
about her? What a mistake to have sent
for him ! The one thing left for her now
was to put her letter on Mr. Sherwood's
desk and escape quietly.
82
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
She had scarcely finished washing her
hands, before carrying out this deter-
mination, when she heard Mr. Sher-
wood's voice: "Where is Miss Blair?
Oh, here you are. I was afraid the
sight of blood had proved too much
for you, and was cursing my luck for
I have a lot of work on hand today.
Here are some letters which I scribbled
off last night — please type them; and
this afternoon I shall have some im-
portant ones for you to take down.
I expect to be out all the morning, so
rest awhile in my office; I'll be back
about two o'clock. Oh, we are going
to hear Aida this evening, if you are
equal to it." And before Edith could
reply, had she known what to say, he
was gone.
Here she was, she thought, nothing
more nor less than a prisoner; and if
her jailor held the key, which she
feared he did, what would be her pun-
ishment before she was set free? Noth-
ing but a high sense of duty kept her
working all the morning and until she
heard Mr. Sherwood's step. Then,
without change of expression, she left
her typewriter and took her seat on
one side of his long table and waited
for him.
"Ready?" he asked, — "Well, then,
begin."
The letters were of the ordinary busi-
ness nature, but dictated more delib-
erately than usual, while Edith was
anxious to work at breathless speed.
After several such letters had been
disposed of, Mr. Sherwood, without
change of position or voice, said, "Now
a personal letter : My Dear Miss Blake,
You will recall having received, some
weeks ago, the prize offered by our
paper in a picture contest, and possibly
may have noticed that your quotation
was not used. I confess that I made a
serious mistake and when I realized it.
made some amends by printing for the
next prize a picture which perfectly
suited your quotation. If you saw it, I
hope you understand my motive, which
at the time seemed good, but which I
have since questioned. Both acts,
however, were prompted by an unac-
countable desire to secure your ac-
quaintance, and in a romantic way.
I had been reading 'The Quest of the
Golden Girl ' and had become possessed
with the idea that it was time I began
such a quest.
In a singular way, which I cannot
explain, my heart turned to you, and I
knew that my quest should go no
further, once I found you. Fate has
been kinder than I deserve and has also
verified my confidence in her, for when
I began to weaken in my pursuit of you,
because of the compelling attractions of
another 'Golden Girl', she put into my
hands the mirror of Truth. There I saw
the happy solution of my quandary —
the end of my quest, — for this second
'Girl' was the substance of the shadow
which had eluded me. So, not to you,
my dear Miss Blake, of Oak St., but
to Miss Blair of Mirth's office I now
offer my heart and — "
"Mr. Sherwood, how cruel!"
"Cruel? Perhaps — but I carry con-
cealed, weapons of another nature which
may please you better." And walking
around the table, he leaned over her
bowed head and whispered in her ear.
For reply she groped for the letter she
had carried all day in her blouse and
held it above her head.
"Oh, you came prepared?" It did
not take him very long to read the
letter, and as he tore it into bits, he
said, "You must have written this the
first week you were here — I don't
believe you could have done so recently.
However, I make no defence — I deserve
all you say. But I am not the only one
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE 83
who misrepresents; and since it is such Thinking suddenly of the picture of
an easy matter for you to change your the conquered tigress, Edith raised her
name, Miss Blake, you can not object head and between tears and laughter
, . . . , . exclaimed, as she laid her hand in his,
to changmg it just once more, and agam w-t-i • • i • • ,
i his IS the picture my quotation best
at my bidding. Won't the name of gnjfg
Sherwood suit all your plans for future 'So much one man can do
action?" That does both act and know."'
THE SONG OF THE FALLS
Bv Annie T. Colcock
The vale is narrow and dark and deep,
For the sides of the mountain are wild and steep:
Spires of hemlock, green and slim,
Rise from the depths, where the light is dim
And the wreck of a rampart lies in a heap —
Thrust from the peak by a Titan's whim;
But a terrace of stone yet spans the glen
With steps too vast for the feet of men. '
It is there that the river comes leaping down :
In a mighty fall from the ledge of brown —
From the ledge of stone on the mountain height
Where the wind blows free and the sun shines bright,
Down on the rocks in the ferny deeps
Where the rhododendron in secret keeps,
To boil and rush
Through the twilight hush
Amid roots that writhe and blooms that blush.
The weight of the water comes down in mass
And booms on the rocks below;
Its voice is the heavy, thunderous bass
Of a choral grand and slow;
It marks the beat of the rhythmic song
With organ tones, sustained and long —
Through the roar and splash of the overflow
Its voice comes up from the deeps below.
But the crest of the wave has a song of its own
As it slips and slides on the pile of stone:
From the churn of the pool and the dash of the spray,
From the little round drops where the rainbows pla)'.
From the hum of each rivulet's wavering fall.
From the babble and drip of the trickling wall —
Musical echoes arise in air.
Blending in harmonies pure and clear,
Filling the valley with melody hark
To its song as the river goes down in the dark!
Bound by the laws of created things
On this ball of dust.
It falls, as it must;
But the highest law that the stream obeys
Is the need to praise!
Fettered and fallen, it dreams of wings —
And the soul of the river soars and sings!
84
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE INDUSTRIAL WORKER'S
OWN POSTOFFICE
AFTER SEVEN DAYS RETURN TO
CONSTANCE LOVEJOY
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
WINSTON-SALEM, N. C.
/qjief(.
a
le^
Winston-Salem, N. C,
February 10th, 1915.
My dear friends: —
Whenever I sit down to write to you,
I wish that I might talk with you in-
stead, and listen to your questions and
your comments, that we might come to a
better understanding about the things
which interest us, but as that is im-
possible, for I cannot be forty-'leven
places at once, I like next best to have
you write me what you think of these
letters of mine. Such a letter I have
just received from a girl who tells me
frankly that she does not agree with
what I wrote you last month, and that
she thinks an ambitious girl can be
discontented too, and want to have as
nice clothes and as good a time as the
rest of the girls!
There is no reason why an ambitious
girl shouldn't dress nicely and have a
good time; it is only when a girl wants
to put on finery that she cannot afford
and when her "good times" interfere
with her work that it is wrong, for it
shows she is not really ambitious.
Ambition means to get ahead, and to
get ahead we must work and study, and
keep in mind the goal for which we are
striving.
I wonder if you boys and girls have
ever thought how hard some of us work
while at play; and how like play our
work often seems. A game of base-ball
requires more energy and is more tir-
ing than many a task for which we are
paid, yet we never think of it as work
because we enjoy it. By taking an
interest in one's work, the work becomes
easier and easier, until it is more like
play.
The boy or girl who is ambitious to
get ahead will consider their work as a
great game, and interest themselves in
every part of it, and put their efforts
where they will get results. They will
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
85
soon find that if they have been dis-
contented, discontent will disappear al-
together, and before they know it,
they will be well on their way toward
their goal. We all have our work to
do, — if we put the spirit of play into
our work, our work will be done better,
more easily and with enjoyment.
I know of a man who taught his
children their letters on his typewriter;
they learned the alphabet by pressing
down the keys of his machine on which
the letters were marked. They en-
joyed this, and unconsciously learned
to make words. Then, when they had
mastered their letters and were able to
spell words, — they were also able to
use the typewriter! They had learned
to do useful work by learning their
alphabet on a typewriter in the spirit
of play.
All that we do, all the energy we
expend, should be useful in one way or
another. I do not mean we must not
play games or go to parties, for recrea-
tion is neccessary to our bodies to keep
them in the best trim, but the games
which we play, and the parties to which
we go, should stimulate our thoughts
and actions in a right way, toward
strong manhood and pure womanhood.
A girl who is ambitious will sacrifice
a new dress and a party if by doing so
she can attend a class which will help
her improve herself.
A girl who is discontented will sacri-
fice an evening class to go to a party
in order to show off a new dress.
But if I go on in this way, you will
all think I am preaching you a sermon,
which I do not at all intend. I am
just ambitious to help you.
Spring will soon be here, and the
spirit of play will run high within all
of us. It is a sign of health and good
spirits that it should, but in our play
let us "get ahead", not necessarily by
winning games, but by choosing games
and recreations that will build up our
minds and bodies.
Speaking of base-ball, why don't you
girls form teams and play the game, too?
Remember the all-girl nine that beat
the boys a couple of years ago at the
Caesar Cone Fourth - of - July picnic.
Surely the boys haven't all the rights
to "the national game."
It is such a healthful pastime and
such fine exercise, in reality a more
beneficial recreation than playing cards
or making fudge.
Fudge has its joys, however, and
sometimes its difficulties. A girl asked
me for a recipe for fudge recently, and
I gave it to her, — two cups of sugar, one
of milk, two squares of chocolate, butter
the size of an egg, and vanila for flavor-
ing. The next day I saw her again and
she said I must have made a mistake,
as the egg simply spoiled it! I told her
the recipe called for no egg, but she
was sure I had told her to put an egg
in it, and it was not until I repeated
"butter the size of an egg" that she
realized she had "remembered wrong."
She tried it again, and said it would
have been good, only she used two cups
of salt by mistake, instead of two cups
of sugar. And then I asked her when
she expected to be married! She
blushed, said in the summer, that it
was a secret yet, and how did I know?
I told her it was clear to me her thoughts
had not been on the fudge, and that
there was only one thing that could
take a girl's thoughts off fudge, and that
was a boy! I guessed right, didn't I?
Let me hear from more of you about
fudge, base-ball, work, play, or what-
ever is nearest your hearts.
Sincerely your friend,
Constance Lovejoy.
P. S. — How many of you have kept
your New Year resolutions?
86
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
BOOK REVIEWS
'$•
The Mountain Girl
By Payne Erskine
Illustrated by J. Duncan Gleason
Little Brown and Company, Publishers,
Boston, Mass.
The Booksellers Opinion
NO work issued in recent years by
the publishers of "The Mountain
Girl" — not even "The Broad High-
way"— has received greater praise from
the booksellers of the country. Begin-
ning with orders of moderate size, deal-
ers all over the United States have sent
in re-orders, and frequent editions have
been needed, so that from the time the
first impression was started for a period
of ten weeks the book was never off the
press, and up to the end of March eight
editions have been printed. Booksellers
in numerous cities are delighted with
"The Mountain Girl" and are unhesi-
tatingly recommending it to their cus-
tomers.
The Publishers' Statement
We had already brought out a novel
by Mrs. Erskine, "When the Gates Lift
Up their Heads," which had been highly
praised and which had enjoyed a fair
sale. When we decided to issue "The
Mountain Girl" we sent the manuscript
to the publisher of the two most suc-
cessful American periodicals, who at
once accepted it for publication. In
the course of its serial publication it
found favor with many readers and it
was recognized that there had come to
the front a new author, regarding whom
a comparison with John Fox, Jr., author
of "The Trail of the Lonesome Pine,"
and Charles Egbert Craddock, who made
the "Land of the Sky" peculiarly her
own, while inevitable, was in no wise to
Mrs. Erskine's disadvantage.
"The Mountain Girl" is notable for
its able character drawing, for its pure
and delightful heroine, for faithfulness
to the atmosphere of its scene and for
charm of landscape description. It is
the kind of novel that the American
public likes best, because it is essen-
tially true to life, and because it pic-
tures what is sweetest and purest in
womanhood. It is certain to have a
wide appeal and will delight everyone
who reads it.
"The Mountain Girl," says The
Chicago Tribune, "is a well sustained,
serene, sympathetic love story, pic-
turesquely placed, with a superstruc-
ture of religious feeling and of noble im-
pulse which lifts the book to a high
plane. A story that will make good
family reading and which will, more-
over, keep the family awake."
Harriet Prescott Spofford writes en-
thusiastically of "The Mountain Girl"
pronouncing it "a book of great strenth
and charm and of absorbing interest.
The plot is well worked out, the char-
acters are finely discriminated and
explain themselves, — the heroine being
a new and beautiful creation, — the
incidents are natural, and the atmos-
phere sweet and healthy. The descrip-
tions of the scenery necessary to the
action are unsurpassed ; one sees the
mountain beauty, while reading,
breathes fresh dewy air, and feels the
world is good."
Extracts from Opinions
The publication of "The Mountain
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
87
Girl" is so recent that only a portion of
the press has thus far reviewed the
story. The opinions already expressed,
with hardly an exception, award it the
highest praise.
[From The Boston Globe]
A virile romance, the appeal of which
is irresistable, and the character draw-
ing very fine. It is restful and enter-
taining in every page, leaving only the
pleasantest memories.
[From The Philadelphia Press]
It is of that simple idyllic sort which
seldom fails to win favor with that
large circle of readers who care little
for gray realism and less for lurid prob-
lems . . . pure and charming romance.
[From The Washington Herald]
Of great strength and charm and of
quite absorbing interest. The plot is
well worked out, the characters are
finely discriminated. The description
of the mountain scenery is a master-
piece. One almost sees the beauty of
the everlasting hills.
[From The Chicago Tribune]
A delightful love-story, genuinely
American in feeling and treatment.
That the story is stirring, that the
heroine is ideal, the love-story ardent
and pure, are strong recommendations,
but the lover of veritable pictures of
American life will have particular
reasons for thanking Mrs. Erskine. She
has pictured wuth skill and in the man-
ner of one initmately acquainted with
her locality and her characters, the
picturesque life of the Southern moun-
taineer. And while she could not, per-
haps, exceed the accuracy of Mr. Fox
and Miss Murfree in this respect, she
has exceeded them in her understand-
ing of the shyness, the curious pride,
the singular psychological contradic-
tions, and the potentialities of this great
group of our people.
[From The Rochester Democrat and
Chronicle]
Full of the majesty of the rock masses
and the joy of the deep forests.
[From The Philadelphia Public Ledger]
A highly romantic story full of the
tonic vigor of the North Carolina moun-
tains. . . . The story is told in an un-
usually vivid style that brings before the
reader the manners and customs of a
community which is entirely sui generis
in its extreme poverty and pride, as well
as in the elemental wildness of its men.
[From The Christian World]
Really well worth reading. A fresh
and charming tale of love among the
unspoiled, simple-hearted, clean-lived
mountain-dwellers of the Blue Ridge of
North Carolina — people that it does you
good to know. . . . The plot is a mas-
terpiece of well-balanced work and the
whole story ranks high.
[From The Springfield Union]
Breathes the air of the great woods
and at the same time tells a compelling
love-story. The author has written
strongly and well. It is one of those
stories which cannot be forgotten, once
the book is laid aside. In fact, it is a
book which one can read a second and
a third time, finding in it some new
charm and delight with each reading.
[From The Chicago Inter-Ocean]
The author knows both land and
people, knows them intimately and has
the skill of putting them before us as
they are. Describes the mountains and
the mountain-dwellers with very fine
fidelity to life. "The Mountain Girl"
not only proves an interesting story,
but has true artistic value; since to
give shape, color, breath, is real art
indeed.
An Unusual and Charming Heroine
[From The St. Louis Post-Dispatch]
The heroine ... a nature of unusual
spirituality, sweetness and strength.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
[From The Milwaukee Journal]
Interesting and well told. Cassandra
is a charming girl, noble in character.
[From The New York Tribune]
The heroine, the daughter of Nature,
is attractively drawn with a certain
simple strength.
[From The San Francisco Bulletin]
Pungent with the odor of wild flowers
and fragrant woodlands. The heroine is
altogether charming.
[From The New York Times]
There is a real charm in the portrait
of the woman and there is grace and
sympathy in the author's picture of life
in the mountains.
[From The Boston Herald]
The mountain girl, Cassandra, is as
fine a character in fiction as we have
met in many a long day. Altogether
an unusually refreshing novel and a
delightfully told story.
[From The Philadelphia Public Ledger]
The author has drawn in Cassandra a
noble type of womanhood. . . . The
psychological analysis of Cassandra's
character is its splendid loyalty and
self-respect is as subtle as it is fascinat-
ing.
A Delightfully Entertaining Story.
[From The Salt Lake Tribune]
A realistic story of much power.
[From The Chicago Journal]
A sweet and wholesome story.
[From The Duluth Herald]
Of marked strength.
[From The Albany Times-Union]
An appealing story of far more than
average merit and charm.
[From The Grand Rapids Herald]
A genuine human interest story.
Lingers long in the mind of the reader
after it is finished.
[From The Portland Evening Express]
Will stir the reader so that he will
read through to the end at a sitting,
forgetful of troubles or tired feeling, and
then breathe a sigh of regret because
there is no more.
[From The Boston Globe]
Notable for its character drawing and
consistently artistic treatment, and in
genuine interest and appeal is surpassed
by few recent works of fiction.
[From The Salt Lake City Herald-
Republican]
Will stir the emotions of the reader
and hold his interest until the last word
has been read.
[From The Philadelphia Press]
Delicacy of description and characteri-
zation, sweetness of sentiment, and a
rich appreciation of human nature char-
acterize the book throughout.
[From The Philadelphia Record]
We must credit to the author rare
power as an artist in depicting Cassan-
dra, one of the strongest, most elusive,
but alluring heroines of latter-day fic-
tion. Her creation has been done with
fine regard to the humanities, to the
physiological requirements, and the
womanly attributes of one destined to
play a big part in a big romance.
Margaret E. Sangster, the well known
writer, whose work is liked and appre-
ciated by young girls, thus sums up the
attractiveness of this delightful story:
"I have read "The Mountain Girl"
with the greater interest because of its
absolute sincerity and the realism of the
life it describes. I am familiar with
the mountains of North Carolina and
have been in many mountain cabins
precisely like that in which the life of
this charming heroine grew from bud
to flower. Cassandra is a fascinating
picture in the foreground, and the
people around her are flesh and blood
and not mere puppets. This romance
ought to attract the favorable attention
of a host of readers."
Edited by ^
15 Cents the Copy
$1.00 the Year
Published at Winston-Salem, N. C.
April, 1915
••MA
[From 1
I n terestjL-
lUiiniiBHIIilBni
aau
bFLIOHTFUL Now
IN THE
LAND OF THE SKY
! Glorious Mountains of Western
! North Carolina
Many people think the early Spring Months
he most charming period in the Western North
arolina Mountains. Certainly it would be hard to
. find a season more enjoyable or a climate more salu-
brious with just the right amount of freshness in the at-
mosphere to add zest to outdoor sports and make the in-
door social diversions a source of constant delight.
THE LAND OF THE SKY embraces 30,000 square
miles of picturesque playground and scenic grandeur un-
excelled in America or elsewhere. There are more than
80 peaks over 5,000 feet high, including Mount Mitchell,
the highest peak in Eastern North America.
LIVE IN THE OPEN
Golf, Tennis, Riding, Motoring, Driving and
Mountain Climbing
SEASON NOW AT ITS HEIGHT
Hotels, Clubs and Bungalows are filled v/ith interesting peo-
ple, busy with outdoor sports and gay with social life, at Ashe-
vilie, Tryon, Waynesville, Hendersonville, Hot Springs, Brevard,
Saluda. Flat Rock, Black Mountain and many other I'esorts,
including Tate Springs, Tenn.
Easily and quickly reached from all directions by through
serv ice of the
SOUTHERN RAILWAY
PREMIER CARRIER OF THE SOUTH
Descriptive Literature upon application to Southern Railway
Representatives located in principal cities or to
S. H. HARDWICK
Passenger Traffic Manager
Washington, D. C.
H. F. GARY
General Passenger Agent
Washington, D. C.
Please Mention This? Magazine \\ hen Ans^vering Advertisements
S K Y- L AN E)
STORIES OF PICTURESQUE NORTH CAROLINA
The People's Magazine
Volume 2 APRIL, 1915 Number 2
Entered as Second-Class Matter at the Postoffice at Winston-Salem, N. C, Under the
Act of March 3, 1879
MAE LUCILE SMITH . .^Editor and Owner
Published Every Month
Sent by Mail, One Year ._.. J .:....._ : .„... .., One Dollar
Single Copies _• Fifteen Cents
ADVISORY BOARD
Locke Craig ._ .-__, .— 1 '....... 1. :....„ Governor of North Carolitia
Josephus Daniels ■ ■■...:. .......i.............. Secretary of the Navy
Lee S. Overman ...L -.......„:...-._,...„;.._ ....United States Senator
F. M. Simmons . — l......... LInited States Senator
Joseph Hyde Pratt State Geologist.
W. A. Erwin, President Durham Cotton Manufacturing Company .Durham, N. C
Julian S. Carr, Manufacturer and Banker ,.. Durham, N. C.
J, Harper Erwin, Secretary and Treasurer Pearl Cotton Mills ...Durham, N. C.
J. C. Pritchard Judge United States Circuit Court of Appeals
S. B. Tanner, President Henrietta and Carolene Mills. Charlotte, N. C.
John E. Ennis, M. D St. Petersburg, F!a.
R. M. Willcox ,. President Greater Hendersonville Club, Hendersonville, N. C.
R. R. Haynes - - President The CliflFside Mills, CliflFside, N. C.
W. A. Smith . President Laurel Part: Electric Railway, Hendersonville, N. C.
L. L. Jenkins President .American National Bank, Asheville, N. C.
F. E. Durfee... ., President Citizens Bank, Hendersonville, N. C.
B. Jackson ..President The People's National Bank, Hendersonville, N. C.
The cover page and entire contents of this Magazine are protected by copyright, and
must not be reprinted without the publisher's permission.
liiiiiiriiiiiiiiii'Kiiiiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiuiiyiutiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiii^
april
j[^ofa), tf)e notgp toinbg are sitill;
Bpril'g coming up tfje till !
HU tfje gpring ig in f)er train,
Hcb tip gfjintng ranfeg o! rain;
l^it, pat, patter, clatter.
iFirsit ti)e blue anb tljen tljc s^fjotoer;
^^uristing but) anb Smiling flotoer,
2?roofefi! fitt free hiiti) tinfeling ring;
Mxhi too full of Hong to ^ing;
Criflip olb leab^j; asitir toiti) pribe,
l©fiere tlje timib biol^tfi! Ijibe.
HU tljingg reabp toitJj a toill,
Hpril'si coming up tlje ijiU.
— JParp ^apes J^obg?-
SK Y- L AN D
STORIES OF PICTURESQUE NORTH CAROLINA
The People's Magazine
Volume 2 APRIL, 1915 Number 2
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
Foreword — ApriL Mary Mapes Dodge 90
Frontispiece — John Charles McNteill . 92
Editorial Comment
Easter Hymn John Charles McNeill 93
A Cluster of Easter Lillies 9S
The Supreme God of the Easter : 9't
The Soul of Adam : 94
A Sound Economic Policy 94
America and Fair Play _ Archibald Henderson 96
A Demand for a Square Deal ..* Contributed 103
Spring in Carolina — Poem... i. ... Andrews 108
In North Carolina's Calcium Light
John Charles McNeill and The Silver Chord.. . Mary Groome McNinch 109
Special Articles
A Doorway to the Winter Woods _. Charles Farrf.ll 117
The Application of Art. ! Mary Hilliard Hinton 118
The Moravian Easter .....Richard Elliotte 120
In the Moravian Graveyard — Poem S. O'H. Dickson 126
A Winter Walk ; ........Lila Ripley Barnwell 12V
Appalachian Sunset ..,. Henley 131
Concerning O. Henry.. ( Mrs J. M. GuDGERand 'I 132
\ Archibald Henderson /
Farewell.. . R. E. Walker 13'^
The Religious Crisis in Mexico Ben Muse 13.5
Does It Do Any Good?. .....Mrs. E. M. Anderson 11
Some Famous People I. Have Known... Clarence Scroggs 13';
The Scotch Trish in North Carolina '. ..E. M. H. 14^.
The Tight-Wad C. L. Hinton 144
Forsyth County.... ...Contributed 146
Fiction
Under Cover of Darkness ' Octavus Roy Cohen 148
A Determined Matchmaker. Lettie King Beeker 16^
A Mysterious Strad Roy LeGrand 157
P'ound — A Happy Warrior ....Kincaid Brockman 162
The Soul of .'^dam — .A Play Hilliard Booth 165
Industrial Section
-An Easter Letter Constance Lovejoy 178
* Book Reviews
Joyful Heatherby — Payne Erskine, Author... 181
On and Off— Mrs. A. Calhoun Hook, Author . . -. 183
JOHN CHARLES McNEILL
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
93
EDITORIAL COMMENT
AN EASTER HYMN
The sun has come again and fed
The lily's lamp with light,
And raised from dust a rose, rich red,
And a little star-flower white;
He also guards the Pleiades
And holds his planets true;
But we — we know not which of these
The easier task to do.
But, since from heaven he stoops to breathe
A flower to balmy air,
Surely our lives are not beneath
The kindness of his care;
And, as he guides the blade that gropes
Up from the barren sod.
So, from the ashes of our hopes,
Will beauty grow toward God.
What'er thy name, ''-^ Soul of Life, —
We know but that thou art, —
Thou seest, through all our waste of strife,
One groping human heart,
Weary of words and broken sight.
But moved with deep accord
To worship where thy lilHes light
The altar of its Lord.
— John Charles McNeill.
A Cluster of Easter Lillies
OiNCE the last issue of the Sky-
*^ Land Magazine the silver chord
broke for Mary Groome McNinch,
and we can ouly bow our heads and
keep silence in the mystery of this
strange dispensation of an all -wise
Father's love.
North Carolina literary circles deplore
the passing of this talented and lovely
young woman, and Sky-Land Maga-
zine feels keenly the loss of one of its
ablest contributors.
Mary Groome McNinch was. deeply
interested in the upbuilding of the liter-
ature of her beloved state, and it was
with splendid loyalty and abiding faith
in the future of Sky-Land that she
pledged her allegiance to the magazine
something over three months ago.
Upon offering a manuscript a few^
weeks before her passing she wrote:
" I shall be so glad to do anything I can
in my small way," and this brief sen
tence. unconsciously reflected the mod-
esty and sweet spirit of service which
characterized all her actions.
The manuscript in question— "John
Charles McNeill and the Silver Chord"
— had been set in type only a few hours
before the news of her passing came and
appears in the current issue under
caption "In North Carolina's Calcium
Light" — a beautiful tribute to that
poetic genius whose work like her ovn
was so suddenly cut down by the Grin
Reaper just as it was nearing the zenith
of its perfection. But who can tell —
the work of these talented young
writers begun here with such brilliant
promise may reach its perfect comple-
tion in some other sphere.
The literary work of Mary Crroome
McNinch will live in the hearts of her
friends and admirers just as the inspired
songs of Fanny Crosby who but recently
entered the Borderland will live in the
hearts of humanity.
The Easter Lillies which beautify the
earth covering of Mary Groome Mc-
Nich sympolizes the sweetness and
purity of her life, and the glorious res-
surrection of the soul to immortality.
94
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
The Supreme God of the Easter
WITH the return of the Easter
season our hearts break into
song and anthems of praise heavenward
extolling the Christ, the resurrected one,
whose death and ascension means the
redemption of a lost world.
In our adoration of the risen Lord
may we not forget to offer like homage
to the Supreme Being back of the up-
lifted cross — the God who offered up
His only son, a vicarious sacrifice, that
we might live the Supreme Deity whose
voice can be heard alike above the shrill
trumpet of war or in the music of mating
birds; whose power can convert the
blackest soul into an evangel of light;
whose hand may be- reco^^nized in the
exquisite tracing of the tiniest leaf;
whose smile is seen in the dancing waters,
the laughing sunshine, and whose favor
is encompassed in the fruitful harvest.
In all forms of beauty His loving kind-
ness is shown and His wondrous pro-
tection from things hurtful. His wrath
condemns, i'^is pity melts. His mercy
saves. The destiny of nations is
swayed by His majesty and power and
le causes the creation of new ideals
\om crumbling empires. Out of the
r ^reck and abandon of despair He
.1 athes new hope and resurrects from
J decaymg body a soul to wmg its
, ght to the Realm of the Infinite —
\he Supreme, the Triune God of the
Easter, thrice blessed!
The Soul of Adam
TN the current number of the Sky-
•*■ Land is reproduced Act I of a Four-
Act play entitled "The Soul of Adam''
by Hilliard B«oth.
This play was partially introduced to
Sky-Land's readers in the July, 1914
number, but was temporarily discon-
tinued after the first Act, it being the
purpose of the editor to test the pop-
ularity of the printed play with Sky-
Land's readers.
So much regret has been expressed
because of its non-appearance and so
many requests for the continuance of
the play have been received, that it is
with genuine pleasure Sky-Land repro-
duces Act I and will continue to run
the play through the three remaining
Acts.
Plays as reading matter are becoming
more and more popular, and the work
of the talented young playwright, to
whose creative art Sky-Land's readers
are indebted for The Soul of Adam, is
fast winning recognition from both the
theatre-going and play-reading public.
A Sound Economic Policy
A TREMENDOUS amount of good
-^ ^ is being accomplished by Southern
manufacturers through various chan-
nels of welfare work for the development
of the moral, physical and spiritual side
of God's unfortunates. From a human-
itarian standpoint the motive is most
praiseworthy. From the standpoint of
sound economics it is unquestionably a
good policy and more and more as time
goes by manufacturers are coming to
realize this. Sound bodies and sound
minds are naturally the outcome of sane
living conditions, and sound bodies and
sound minds give an hundredfold better
service than weak bodies and weak
minds which often are the product of
germ-laden unsanitary surroundings
where food is known only by its un-
wholesomeness or scarcity. Thanks be
to a merciful providence the latter con-
dition is so rare as to be practically
unknown in the majority of Southern
mill communities today, due to the
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
95
good judgment and business foresight
of the heads of our industrial institu-
tions, who follow the practical creed of
first the wheaten loaf and then the
spiritual manna, for the moral and
spiritual side of a man are reached ten
times more quickly by administering to
his physical wants.
The manufacturer who failed to do
aught for the betterment of living con-
ditions of his operatives would soon
find himself a heavy economic loser.
Better service, contented operatives
who stand by the job are worth the
price in dollars and cents expended to
improve the general conditions with
which they are surrounded.
True, that despicable organization
the I. W. W. has sometimes invaded
mills where conditions were altogether
desirable and wrought untold mischief
and havoc among erstwhile contented,
law-abiding operatives, but the organi-
zation is being so vigorously denounced
by right-thinking people, so soundly
rated by the press and is meeting with
so many rebuffs from that element of the
laboring class that is beginning to com-
prehend that it is the organization itself
and not the laborer that is reaping the
benefit of its militant activities, that
only idleness and suffering have followed
in its wake, it would only seem a matter
of a short time ere it will have to dis-
band..
The problems between capital and
labor are delicate problems and sus-
ceptible of delicate handling and should
be settled between the two great fac-
tions — Capital and Labor — without
meddlesome interference from outsiders.
And indications point to the day when
there is a probability of their being thus
I settled. The employer is realizing more
and more in this century of progress his
moral responsibility toward his less
fortunate employee and the employee is
beginning to awake to the fact that the
obligation does not rest wholly with the
employer, but that they should realize
and discharge their obligation jointly.
The law of equal values will in time
come more and more to be respected by
both labor and capital. Co-operation
between labor and capital is not only
desirable but essential for the advance-
ment of mutual interests. The Rocke-
feller Foundation established "to pro-
mote the welfare of mankind" found
the keynote to the whole situation when
it started an investigation on its own
premises, seeking to discover the skele-
ton in its own closet, if skeletc n there
be. It seemed a wise decision on the
part of young Rockefeller when he
invited some of the foremost labor
agitators in the country to join him in
this investigation in order to jointly
discover the basic cause of those labor
troubles which had stirred up so much
strife and hatred among his employees.
So often the troubles between labor
and capital result from a misunder-
standing, a wrong conception of each
other's rights and privileges. A diligent
probing at the root of the trouble, with
due consideration for each other's in-
terests— an even balancing of the scale.^
so to speak — might have prevent^
many a misunderstanding from resu
ing in riot. Particularly apropos in th.
connection are the following stanza
from "Hands Entwined" by Hon.
Rees D. Rees, of the Denver Bar:
Thou hast not gold the world to give,
Yet dost thou aid the world to live;
Thou dost thy part, but not alone,
For as the sinew needs the bone,
So dost thou need the hand of ^jrealth
To bring thee work that gives thee health,
And joy and pure contentment sweet,
As loved ones dear their needs ye meet.
Thou hand of wealth! how great thy power!
What mighty tasks thou dost each hour!
Worldwide thy fields, for weal or woe,
96
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Man's heaven-sent friend or giant foe;
Clasped hand to hand with honest toil,
Thou'd free the world of burd'ning moil
'Twould peace and joy and blessings bring,
The earth make gl d and angels sing.
O, Toil, alone, thou helpless art,
Nor canst thou, Wealth, e'er do thy part,
: Until, unless thy quarrels o'er
A friendship true thou dost restore.
Thou hand of wealth, be just, be square;
Thou hand of toil, be honest, fair,
Thus help and bless each other's lot,
Nor mar the same by one least biot.
Entwine your hands in loving grasp,
And peace, good will in union clasp.
Heaven then will flood our world with light.
The Tight of love, eternal, bright.
AjTierica and Fair Play — A Plea for
Neutrality.
By Archibald Henderson
"The cause? Half a dozen expand-
ing empires and only one planet." —
Philadelphia Ledger.
PRESIDENT WILSON'S admoni-
-■- tion to the American people upon
the outbreak of the Eui^opean war,
to preserve a strict neutrality, carried
vith it a certain sense of shock. This
lessage of advice and warning brought
-ribly home to the minds of every
ughtful citizen a profound conscious-
.ss of the unique position occupied by
e United States and of the obligation
hereby imposed upon her citizens. As
the Nation greatest in power outside the
circle of the combatants, the United
'^♦"ates can not be indifferent to or un-
^A^ar'e of the effect produced upon the
minds of Europe by ardent advocacy
on the part of the American people of
the cause of either side in the European
conflict. As the nation animated by
ideals of peace, and through the most
notewofhty international pronounce-
ment of her present Chief Executive
committed in opposition to a policy of
territorial aggradizement, the United
States is thereby even more deeply
obligated to preserve a n.^utrality be-
fitting a nation of the mosv advanced
humanitarianism.
Within the past two decades American
expressions of international policy have
been rigorously adherred to and honor-
ably acted upon. The laudable self-
restraint in the case of Cuba was an
object lesson to the entire world of a
broader conception of the responsibility
of the greater nations to weaker peoples.
In the case of the Phillipines the United
States found herself suddenly con-
fronted with the newer obligations of
her widening destiny as a world power.
This self-restraint on the part of the
United States was all the more laudable
in view of the fact that the retention of
Cuba would have been accepted with-
out protest in Europe. Indeed, we
may go further and say that this self-
abnegation on the part of the United
States was regarded in Europe with
astonishment, not altogether unmixed
with contempt. We were generally re-
garded in Europe as a fool for our
pains. Yet events since the Spanish-
American War have steadily shaped
themselves to a single end — the gradual
liberation of the Fillipinos and the
ultimate assurance to them of the
benefits of democratic self-government.
The nations of Europe would doubtless
have accepted without protest, if not
with genuine satisfaction, the armed
intervention of the United States in
Mexico. Only the statesmanlike pa-
tience of a wise Executive, in conjunc-
tion with the laudable restraint of an
equable and pacific Cabinet, prevented
a step which would have most seriously
taxed the military resources of the
country and embroiled the United
States for perhaps a decade in a most
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
97
hazardous and thankless war. The
military occupation of Vera Cruz, the
self-control of the American troops in
destroying no property in reprisal for
the "sniping" of the Mexican guerillas,
the establishment of law and order, and
the assurance of a peaceful withdrawal
whenever sufficient stability within Mex-
ico warranted withdrawal, all afford
another triumphant vindication of the
high ground occupied by the United
States in dealing with a sister Republic,
torn by most lamentable internal dis-
sentions. In each of these grave inci-
dents of international moment the
United States has demonstrated herself
to be animated and guided by the spirit
of true lair play. Toward all these
peoples, these weaker peoples, the United
States has acted not as a big bully but
as a big brother, giving to all not only
fair treatment, but in the largest
meaning of a popular phrase, a "square
deal."
It is from a nation animated by such
a spirit of justice and acting in good
faith upon such broadly humanitarian
principles that the nations of Europe
now at death grips have reason to
expect a like fair-mindedness in judg-
ment and liberalit}^ of opinion in regard
to the issues now being fought out upon
the battle fields of Europe. It is obvi-
ously enough the manifest, the impera-
tive, duty of the American Government
to maintain the strictest neutrality
towards the European war. This idea
was not in the mind of the President
when he counseled the American people
to observe a neutral attitude toward the
warring nations. Assuredly he was
thinking of the individual citizens, in
particular of the leaders of thought and
molders of public sentiment. Upon
such as these, and in particular upon
the publicists and the editors oi the
great newspapers, rest the obligation
and the responsibility of giving the
fullest consideration to all the facts, to
the directing motives at work, and to
the underlying causes w'.'ch precipitated
the conflict.
In view of these considerations, which
were brought to the attention of the
country by the Chief Executive with a
suddenness and force little short of
dramat':, we should naturally expect a
thoroughly impartial attitude on the
part of the American people toward the
warring nations. Yet the most power-
ful instrumentalities have been steadily
and consistently ai work from the very
beginning of the conflict to prejudge the
issues for the American people. It has
been the fortune of war that England,
through her control of the seas, has
been able to control the channels of
publicity through which news of the
war reaches this country. Aside from
bril'iant diplomatic expositions of th/e
type engaged in by the sagacious Dr.
Dernburg, the magazine articles and
books hurriedly rushed 'iito print b'
German professors in American colleger
and universities, the heated defense of
Germany by her diplomatic represen-
tatives, and the more balanced expo-
sitions of Germany's position by such
American students of Weltpolitik as
Prof. Burgess and Prof. Sloane, the vast
majority of the reports of the war
emanate from English and French
sources. These reports, sent thr^.,Ligh
English and French channels, are bias
deliberately and carefully in the interest
of national policy. The American mind
is assailed with a thousand unverified
reports, an enormous number of which
are quickly demonstrated to be false.
A large number of these reports remain
to accomplish the immediate purpose for
which they are designed. Truth un-
supported is but slow to outrun official
falsehood. It is the old storv o\'er
98
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
again of "Calumniate, calumniate, and
something will always remain."
England has put forth all the resources
of her news ncies in the effort to
convincie the i merican people of the
righteousness ..." her own cause and the
unrighteousness of the cause of Ger-
many. It is part of the psychology of
such a situation that each nation should
endeavor to establish the purity of the
motives which actuated her own people
in entering the conflict and to coin a
formula therefor. England seeks to
impose upon America and the world the
belief that the maintenance of treaty
obligations and the preservation of the
integrity of lesser peoples were the
controlling motives in her decision.
And already her efforts in this direction
have been crowned with remarkable
success in the United States. The
leasons for this are readily understood
v.i?en pne realizes that the small news-
papers pf the- country but reflect the
"iews expressed in the great metropoli-
an dailies, and these metropolitan
dailies, acting as the medium for English
and French opinion, mirror the political
mind of England and France.
T"he American people are singularly
tend „x -hearted, singularly sentimental.
The pictures of devastated villages,
ruined homes, and desolate peasants
arouse in them not only horror art the
miseriv.s of war, but a sympathy for the
>e<jpie thus pictured and indignation
ainst their conquoerors. It must also
e recognized that all people of highly
organized religious consciousness, es-
pecially an essentially reverential people,
like the Americans, experience a strong
shock of revulsion at the sight of photo-
graphs of defaced cathedrals, dismantled
altars and wrecked churches, even
though these may be the inevitable
results of the dread exigencies of bom-
bardment. "Which wav will American
sympathies swing," the Philadelphia
Ledger pertinently inquires, "when the
ruins in the photographs are German?"
Our own American publicists have
coolly disregarded the prudent admo-
nition of President Wilson. Writing in
the Times of September 4, the eminent
publicist. Dr. Charles W. Eliot, makes
bold to act as spokesman for American
sentiment and American opinion in the
words :
"It follows from the very existence of
these American instincts and hopes that,
although the people of the United States
mean to maintain faithfully a legal
neutrality, they, are not and can not be
neutral or indifferent as to the ultimate
outcome of this titanic struggle. It
ilready seems to them that England,
France, and Russia are fighting for
freedom and civilization."
And again in the same article he
writes :
"American sympathies atid hopes can
not possibh^ be neutral, for the whole
history and present state of American
liberty forbids."
To all men of profound reflection it
must be manifest thac a neutrality
which means national championship of
either side in the titanic struggle in
Europe is a violation of thevery essence
of neutrality. And the assumption for
the entire ■*Unitated States that the
American people believe, for example,
that Russia is "fighting for freedom and
civilization" is one of those dangerous
generalizations which may not find their
origin in demonstrable facts.
As one who has mingled with the
peoples of England and Germany,
studied at both English and German
universities, and felt the impress of
both English and German culture, I
became convinced some years ago that
the English people fully anticipated the
present war and that the German people.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
99
while realizing the possibility of a conflict
with England, were very far from desir-
ing it. I can never forget the remark
of Mr. Bernard Shaw at the time the
question of the initiative and referendum
was being actively discussed in the
British Parliament, "The first thing the
English people would vote for under the
initiative and referendum," he said,
"would be war with Germany; and the
second would be war with the United
States."
During the course of many months
spent in England and Germany in 1910
and 1911, in the effort to gather the
trend of public opinion with regard to
an Anglo-German war, I made it a
practice to question people of every
rank of life, from the nobelman and
the man of affairs to the cabman and
the washerwoman in both countries.
Virtually without exception the Ger-
mans with whom I talked disclaimed
any and every desire for such a conflict.
The reasons most frequently advanced
by German citizens for desiring to avoid
such a conflict were: First, that they
had no quarrel with England; and
second, that they foresaw the irreparable
damage to their industry, commerce,
and maritime trade in the event of
such a war.
Virtually without exception the Eng-
lish people with whom I talked expressed
the conviction that war with Germany-
was inevitable, deplored the supineness
and parsimony of the English Govern-
ment in the matter of preparation for
such a conflict, and voiced the necessity
for England of destroying the naval
power of Germany. The problem of
maintaining indefinitely the two-power
standard was recognized as England's
almosymsuperable difliculty in view of
Germany's rapid strides in naval de-
velopment. And yet the maintenance
of the two-power standard was uni-
versally recognized as the indispensable
safeguard for England's supu'emacy on
the sea and for the mamtenance of her
food supply in time of ',, ■•. The people
at large deplored the apparent fact that
the British war office, ,1 face of an
English army totally urable to cope
with Germany in the event of a Euro-
pean war, was making no appreciable
effort to strengthen and increase ma-
terially its numbers and efficiency.
This popular conviction was, I feei as-
sured, based on a profound error. The
campaign of territorial recruiting ' was
proceeding steadily, if quietly, and even
secretly, throughout the length and
breadth of the British Isles. This in-
formation I had from the most authorita-
tive source. And I was assured that
large portions of the British Isles already
had such forces recruited and under-
going limited terms of service. I had
occasion to examine maps o^ the British
Isles on which were marked in red those
sections where such military organiza-
tions were already under way. I WcS
informed that whenever that entire
map was colored with red, England
would be ready for war with Germany.
This method of local recruiting has been
steadily progressing in England for at
least five years. Since the outbreak of
the European war, England has en-
deavored to attach to Germa'iy, because
of her maintenance of powerful military
and naval forces, the stigma of a bar-
baric militarism. Yet it is a question
w^hether every Englishman to-day, sec-
retly, if not openly, does not regret that
England had not inaugurated com-
pulsory militar}^ service long ago and
trained every man in the Empire to
arms.
In the eyes of the ' w^orld at this
moment the better cause is the cause
of England, no doubt. With that
"pot-bellied equanimity," which Car-
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
lyle found so offensive in the English,
with the subHme assurance of L.elf-
righteousness which makes the EngUsh
people often so intolerable to the citizens
of other countries, the English states-
men and publicists announce that Eng-
land declared war on Germany to pre-
serve the sanctity and inviolability of
treaty relations and to preserve the
integrity of a lesser people.
In the same way Germany is using
every vocal instrumentality at her dis-
posal for the purpose of disclaiming
responsibility for the war, under the
plea that she was driven to it by the
desperate need for self-preservation.
She is waging a war of self-defense we
are assured by a thousand \'oices; the
sword was thrust into her hands. She
is fighting the battle of European civi-
lization, the ultimate conflict of Teu-
tonic culture with Slavic "rudeness and
barbarism." The preservation of the
German people and the maintenance
of Teutonic culture — these are the
motivtb -plausibly advanced by Germany
in her declaration of war.
If we look deeper and endeavor to
penetrate the mask which veils from
public view the vital motives of the
conflict, the true, the vital, reasons
may not be far to seek. When the
wholesome growth of two rival nations
reaches the point where there is no
Tonger room for the expansion and
progress of both, in the present state of
the world's civilization, a condition
conductive to war inevitably arises. It
can not be doubted that back of all
the specious fine phrases and uplifting
sentiments out in front — phrases and
sentiments which ring hollow to the
ear of the disillusioned man behind the
scenes — the ambition of an advancing
Germany in conflict with the adaman-
tine resistance of a retrograding Eng-
land have been the primary and funda-
mental conditions^, leading on to the
present war. For the past decade
England has echoed with the plaints of
pessimists and alarmists — cawing rau-
cously of England's decadence and of
the necessity ' for arousing the "nation
of shopkeepers" to a realization that
Germany, their virile and aggressive
foe, must be crushed. I shall never
forget, one morning in London, my
almost physical sense of the shudder of
apprehension which swept over England
when Bleriot flew across the channel.
The ancient barrier of the sea was
obliterated. England's safety in isola-
tion was destroyed in the twinkling of
an eye. In that revolutionary moment
the history of the world was altered.
England became only a part of Europe.
Within recent years Germany's grow-
ing maritime power has been pointed
out again and again as England's great-
est menace. Shrewd observers have
noted that while the increase of Ger-
many's over-seas trade has been the
result of an almost perfectly efficient
commercial system, England's corres-
ponding decrease in over-seas trade has
been the inevitable outcome of anti-
quated and haphazard business methods.
These two closely interrelated facts, so
dangerous to British pride, acted as a
violent irritant in relations between
England and Germany.
Realizing the impossibility of keeping
pace with Germany's advance in mili-
tary preparation and at the same time
maintaining her own colossal internal
reforms, such as national insurance and
old-age pensions, England concentrated
her principal efforts upon strengthening
her navy, determined that when war
should come her policy would be to
blockade German ports, to sweep Ger-
many's shipping from, the high seas,
and in the event to destroy Germany's
nav>-. The results of the war thus far
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
101
have already fully justified the wisdom
of England's policy in this respect.
However the world may now view it
as a lapse into a wild orgy of primitive
barbarism, the European conflict will
eventually be recognized, no doubt, to
have been an irrepressible one. For it
is a conflict for supremacy between rivals
unalterably determined to yield not a
jot. England, the mistress of the seas,
with the most far-flung line of pos-
sessions in the world, has ben sorely
taxed within recent years to maintain
the integrity of the empire. Her part
in the European conflict is a double
one — the maintenance of her hard-
earned supremacy in geographical size,
colonial possessions, international in-
fluence, and world-trade, and the crush-
ing of her most dangerous rival on the
sea. In like manner, Germany fulfills a
double role in the present conflict —
to prevent, if possible, the lopping
away of any portion of her territory,
and, in the last resort, to defend her
own people from annihilation; and,
furthermore, to make good her boasted
strength as the first military power of
Europe. England, filled with dark
forebodings of national decadence, fights
to retain her old position as the world's
greatest nation. Germany, animated by
a spirit of the most aggressive ambition
fights for a "place in the sun" — for
room to expand, for power to enforce
her demand to be left alone, and to be
permitted to go forward in the orderly
course of' her phenomenal national de-
velopment.
These, it would seem, are the real
motives which underlie the reasons of
state so assiduously put forward by
England and Germany. In each case
the reasons are natural, human, thor-
oughly comprehensible. The motives
actually assigned by each nation are
advanced in the interest of their psycho-
logical eft'ect upon the great masses of
the people of the countries represented.
The real motives lie deeper down in
the racial consciousness "The cause?
Half a dozen expanding empires and
only one planet."
Thp American people, it is well for
us all to recall, stand at the portals of a
new era. We are of the race of energy,
of progress, of constitutional govern-
ment, of democratic civilization. We
are the Nation of purest national ideals,
if not of greatest material accomplish-
ment, in the world to-day. America's
national destiny, in the light of these
ideals, should be the greatest and pro-
foundest concern of all thinking citizens
of this country.
In the face of such a consideration
one may well pause to reflect over
America's wisdom in this international
crisis in clinginp to sentimental attach-
ments. Too long has the United States
all too modestly devoted its energies to
fostering the causes of other nations.
Too tardy has been the United States
in assuming her great role in inter-
national relationship and world policy.
America, too, desires a "place in the
sun" — not of territorial aggradizement
but of international leadership in the
cause of civilization. America, too,
has great national ambitions, vast in-
ternational aspirations. A great struggle
may now be preparing for the Unitec
States, the greatest struggle this country
has ever known. England and Germany
are now locked in a titanic struggle, the
death grapple of the supreme rivals for
world supremacy. When this struggle
is concluded the power of one will be
crippled, mayhap shattered; the power
of the other will be enormously magni-
fied. It is with the victor of this her-
culean contest that we, the American
Nation, will have to reckon in the long,
long future. Concern for self-perpetua-
102
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
..tion is the driving force of nations as
well as of individuals. Enlightened
self-interest i& che foundation stone in
the edifice of clonal integrity.
No one c. ^e blind to the fact that
it is the Pel, • neither of prudence, of
sanity, nor c-^'" wisdom for the people of
this country lO alienate the sympathies
or to invite the hostility of any of the
participants in the European war Our
geographical isolation, our remoteness
from Europe, with its tense air and
vibrant atmosphere of cosmopolitanism
and Weltpolitik, has had one inevitable
result. We do not seem as yet to have
become capable, individually or col-
lectively, of viewing world politics from
the international point of view. We
are moved by sentimental national
attachments which my have no solid
basis in reciprocal feeling. W^e are
swayed by phantom fears evoked by
the lurid fancy of the jingoist. As that
notably cosmopolitan representative of
the United States, Dr. Nicholas Murray
Butler, has recently said, with a tren-
chant force peculiarly apposite at this
moment so big with fate, "We Ameri-
cans need the international mind as
much as any people ever needed it.
We shall never be able to do justice to
our better selves or to take our true
part in the modern world until we
acquire it. We must learn to suppress,
"aiher than to exalt, those who endeavor
whether through ignorance, selfishness,
or malice, to stir up among us antagon-
ism to other nations and to other
peoples." This pronouncement has no
more immediate, no more pressing ap-
plication than is to be found at the
present juncture. We must learn to
suppress — now, and in the immediate
future — those who endeavor, for what-
ever motive, to stir up among us an-
tagonism to Germany or to England,
to Russia or to France.
In the interest of public policy alone: —
were no more lofty principle at stake —
the American people could commit no
greater blunder than that of indulging
in universal popular condemnation of
Germany and her entire cause in the
present war. Many observers, in Ger-
many as wel^ as out, testify to the feel-
ings of the bitterest, most vehement
animosity now displayed by all classes
in Germany toward England because of
her participation in the present war —
a participation which they believe was
not occasioned by any real quarrel with
Germany. The Cxerman people as a
whole — philosophers, scieritists, men of
letters, statesmen, soldiers — seem to
believe that England used Germany's
violation of Belgium's neutrality merely
as a convenient moral pretext for de-
claring war. It is, they say, not because
of England's participation in the war,
but because of the lack of any valid
ground for this participation, that she
has aroused the deepest animosity of a
people against whom she had no real
grievance. England, they say. had no
quarrel with Germany. Still less has
America any quarrel with any one Of
the warring nations. Why, then, invite
the hostility of any one of them through
violent and unnecessary partisanship?
May prudence and common sense pre-
vail to spare America this ultimate
fatuity.
To all good citizens of the United
States an appeal for neutrality has
already been issued by the Nation's
Chief Executive. The coming respon-
sibilities for our national destiny not
less than the pressing obligations of
our past history, enjoin us to display
at this present juncture that admirable
spirit of equity, the sporting spirit of
fair play, which we all honestly deem
characteristic of the American people.
Suggestions adverse to the peace-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
103
loving instincts of our people are already
beginning to crop our in public prints.
Openly avowed fear lest Germany
eventually prove victorious in the Euro-
pean war is beginning to prompt pub-
licly expressed opinion in American
prints that the United States should
engage in the present war and throw
her strength on the sides of the allies.
Such suggestions are prompted by the
fear that Germany, if victorious in the
present war, would be strong enough to
flout with impunity the Monroe doc-
trine, which is popularly accepted as a
cardinal tenet of /America's national
policy.
Such suggestions are dangerous to
the peac(; of this country, and in
open violation of the fundamental
principle of neutrality which it is the
duty of every American ritizen to main-
tain. It is in gross violation of our
obligation to Germany as the guardian
of her interests in many world capitals
at the present time. Our ambassadors
_are acting in behalf of Germany in the
great capitals of the countries now
waging war against Germany. The
suggestion that without aggression on
Germany's part, but solely through
fear of her eventual predominance in
world affairs, the United States support
the cause of the allies is nothing else
than the suggestion that this country
forswear national honor and violate the
very principles which have given the
United States her enviable reputation
for unsullied national faith.
Whether we realize it or not, the
United States now stands forth in the
eyes of the world as the supreme judge
of the issues now being fought out upon
the battle fields of Europe. At this
very moment the position of the United
States is all-important. Each of the
warring nations is straining every nerve
to influence the opinion of the American
people favorably to its own- individual
cause. May we not forget that, in
forming our judgment and making up
our minds, the United "tates herself
stands at the bar of }_ jrity. The
thread of history is in he hands. The
world already recognizes i as inevitable
that the United States vill play the
leading role in the great ciiama of the
conclusion of a world peace. This is
the most judicial role which has ever
been wrought by fate in the dramas of
international atTairs and world politics.
May we, in making up our present
estimate and rendering our final verdict,
not be unreasonably influenced by the
coward fear, of any country. May we
not now be influenced, by reason of
such alarm, to the extent of condemning
unheard or on insufficient grounds, any
country's cause. May we, over undis-
puted facts, calmly reserve judgment
until all the cards are face upward upon
the table. If, in this vaunted American
game of fair play, the dice are already
heavily loaded with racial prepossession
and prejudices, let us at least refrain
from boasting of it. In this hour of
our peril and our responsibility let us
heed the wise admonition of President
Wilson and, pending the conclusion of
the struggle, preserve the neutrality of
tne just judge — a neutrality not only
of national action, but also of individual
expression of opinion.
A Demand for a Square Deal
Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen:
I come before you today to make a
plea for a square deal for the cotton
manufacturers of the South.
I do not come at the instance of the
cotton manufacturers, in fact, up to the
time of accepting your invitation no one
of them knew that I contemplated ad-
i
104
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
dressing you and even now, only four
or fi^e of them are aware I am here.
I am editor and sole owner of the
Southern Textile Bulletin, a journal
that covers the textile industry of the
South, and goes not only to the cotton
mill officials but to the superintendents,
overseers, and other practical men in
the mills.
Prior to entering journalism, I was
for eight years in the cotton manu-
facturing business beginning as an
operative, and at one time or another
filled practically every position in the
cotton mill. For a considerable portion
of the time, I lived with mill people, ate
with them and I therefore know how
they work and how they live.
The cotton manufacturers have no
financial interest in my publication,
either directly or indirectly, and I have
never hesitated to take issue with them
upon any matter where I consider them
to be in the wrong.
I stand very close to the men in the
mills, including the operatives, and I
have my hand on the pulse of the iti-
dustry. I know what they are thinking
and what they are saying, and I am
endeavoring through my journal to aid
them, not only in their practical but in
their moral development and to put
into their minds, thoughts and ideas
that will do much towards causing them
. to live clean and moral lives. Probably
my greatest field of endeavor has been
to promote good feeling and square
dealing between the mill officials and
the operatives, and I do not believe
that any other industry in this country
can today boast of as much good feeling,
confidence and co-operation between
these two classes, as exists in the textile
industry of the South.
I have explained to you at length the
position which I occupy and the work
in which I am engaged, in order that
you may know that I have more than a
theoretical knowledge of my subject,
and I now wish to tell you where I
stand upon the subject of child labor.
I wish you to remember that I speak
from practical knowledge and contact
with the subject.
I haye never advocated child labor
and I have never believed that any
child of less than 12 years of age should
be allowed to work.
I do not belicA^e that a girl under
fourteen years of age should be allowed'
to work, but I have never seen any
evidence that a boy above twelve years
of age was injured b^^ cotton mill work
except, in so far as it prevented him
from attending school, and wherever
and whenever it is possible for a boy
under fourteen years of age to attend
school, I believe that it should be illegal
to employ him in a mill during the
school term.
I do not believe that any woman
under eighteen years of age should be
employed on night work, and in taking
this position I take issue with many of
our manufacturers.
This is briefly my position upon the
so-called .child labor question, but at
the same time I wish to say that I can
show you strong, healthy men, many of
them filling high positions in the mills
whose appearance will compare favor-
ably with any of the gentlemen before
me, who began work as cotton-mill
doffer boys at eight or nine years of
age when there were no age restrictions.
I can show you strong healthy women
in the cotton rriill villages, mothers of
large healthy families who began work
as spinners at the early age of eight or
nine years.
On the other hand, in spite of all the
pictures that your organization has
printed and all the statements that have
been made, I have failed to note where
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
105
you have shown one man or one woman
whose health has been wrecked by early
work.
There is a misunderstanding on the
part of the public relative to the work
that is being p' rformed in the cotton
mills by young boys and girls.
I have seen your statements about the
"child at the loom," but it is an im-
possibility for a child to reach from
the fron^ of the loom to the place where
the broken threads must be tied. Your
representatives have seen small children
playing around the looms operated by
their parents or assisting those parents,
but it Avas a misrepresentation to picture
those children as running looms.
The young girls in the mills are em-
plo3^ed almost exclusively at the spin-
ning frames where it is their' duty to
watch the thread that break and
■'piece-up" or replace them. When
there are no broken threa.ds they sit on
the boxes at the ends of the frames and
make occasional trips down the alleys.
Their work is not continuous, and re-
quires very little physical energy. It
cannot be compared to the endless,
unceasing strain upon a girl at a sewing
machine in one of your Nev/ York sweat
shops.
,* When' the bobbins on the spinning
frames become full the young boys
remove them from the spindles and put
on empty bobbins. This is called
doffing and the boys are called doffers.
Between doffs, that is while the bobbins
are filling- up, the boys are at leisure and
play, usually outside but near the mill
door so that they can be called when
needed.
Those of us who have had experience
with doffer boys with their infinite
capacity for using their surplus energy
for all manner of mischief, can hardly
recognize them as the weaklings as
painted by the members of your organi-
zation. If any of you have doubts upon
this subject and wish to spend a lively
and interesting two weeks, I will secure
for you a position in charge of the doffer
boys in a Southern cotton mill, and if
you retain your mental faculties at the
end of that time, you will paint a dif-
ferent picture of the doffer boy from
that you have been accustomed to see.
The)^ are full blooded American boys
with health and energy' and an infinite
capacity for doing the things that they
should not do and boy for boy, I believe
that they can lick any other class of
boys in this country.
The trouble with your organization
is that your representatives do not
present the true facts. They take
exceptional cases and give them to the
world as average and usual conditions.
You tell about the mill man violating
the laws of his state, but your organiza-
tion often violates a higher law than
that of man, which says, "Thou shalt
not bear false witness against thy
neighbor." ')
I do not mean to give offense but I
am here to tell facts and I do not believe
that the donors and patrons of this
organization intended that their money
should be used to misrepresent con-
ditions.
Speak of child labor in Southern mills
to the average man or woman, and im-
mediately a mental picture arises of a
girl of four or five years of age. ragged
and exhausted with a heavy burden,
and standing over her a brutal man
with a whip. It is the picture that has
been created in the minds of the public
largely by the efforts of the National
Child Labor Committee, and in creating
that impression, you have borne false
witness against your neighbor.
I hold in my hand the editorial page
of the latest number of the "Good
Housekeeping" magazine. It contains
106
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
an editorial intimating that children of
five and six years of age are employed
in the mills of North Carolina. On this
page is a picture of a monument on
which is written the word "PROFIT,"
and at the base of the monument lies
the ragged fiir-.ire of a child of not over
five years of age.
Why did they illustrate this picture
with a girl ct five?- Why did they not
put there the figure of a girl of thirteen,
or fourteen, or fifteen years?
1 charge that it was done purposely
to create in the minds of the public,
the idea that the North Carolina cotton
manufacturers are employing children
of that age, whereas the minimum age
limit is thirteen years, and only in rare
cases and in violation of the law, are
children of fewer years being employed.
The picture was a violation of fact,
and the man who produced it told an
untruth as much as if he had used words.
A few years a'^o in a pamphlet issued
by Dr. McKelwt ', was the picture of a
small girl standin^ near a machine and
the inscription below that machine
indicated that the child was liable to
be crushed and ground to death at any
miriuie. Many a mother shuddered at
that picture and hated the employers of
that girl, when as a matter of fact she
was standing near a section beam on a
warper, one of the most harmless of
machines, and it was almost impossible
for her to be injured.
■ I could cite many similar cases where
a half truth has been told and the wrong
impression created, and I can say
honestly that I have never seen a state-
ment issued by the National Child Labor
Committee relative to the Southern
cotton mills that did not exaggerate
conditions or contain half truths.
When your investigators come South
they seem to be looking for the unusual
and exceptional cases, and to have no
idea of giving a square deal to the
cotton manufacturers.
A mother, especially one who is
w^orking on the spoolers where there is
considerable space, often prefers to take
her little child in the mill and let it
play around her rather than leave it
with neighbors.
Where a family lives a considerable
distance from the mill it is the custom
to send the dinner pail to the mill by
the young children and they usually
reach the mill before stopping time.
Such children are seen and either
through ignorance, or intentionally, are
represented as being employed.
There are. I am sorry to say, mills
that violate the age limit law but the
Southern States are essentially law
abiding, and sooner or later every mill
will be forced to comply with the legal
requirements. The changes in such
laws have been rapid in late years and
it naturally requires time for mills,
especially those that fought against the
changes to adjust them.,elves to the new
conditions, but it will be done.
I do not think your organization has
been granted any commission to enforce
the laws of North Carolina, and coining
from states whose violations of laws,
including those of child labor, are far in
excess of those of my state, I say that
you should clean up your own back-
yards before you attend to ours.
I do not wish to paint the condition
of the Southern cotton mill operatives
as ideal. They work and work hard,
and their surroundings and I'ves are not
all that could be desired.
However distasteful the idea of man-
ual labor may be to those who live by
their wits, we have not yet reached the
state where most men do not ha\'e to
earn their living by the sweat of their
brows.
Many of you have read Thos. R.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
107
.; Dawley's book, "The Child That Toil-
I eth Not." The cotton manufacturers
of North Carolina purchased a consid-
• arable number of those books and dis-
tributed them, but I condemned them
for their action.
Dawley's book contains a great deal
of truth but he selected the exceptional
and unusual cases and it is not a true
picture of the section which it is sup-
posed to cover. Dawley painted the
picture as some mill men wanted to see
it, just as your representatives paint
their pictures as they believe you want
to see them.
It is a fact however, that a niiijority
of the people who have gone from the
mountains or the small farms to the
mills have immeasurably benefited their
conditions, and it is also a fact that the
child on the farm does harder and more
injurious work and has less opportunity
for enjoyment than the children in the
mill.
I have never heard of your organiza-
< tion advocating age restrictions for the
child on the farm and it is openly
charged that you are afraid of the
political influence of the farmer.
Volume 4 of the 1910 United States
census on occupation statistics gave the
following for North Carolina as regards
boys ' etween 10 and 13 years of age:
Total engaged in gainful occupa-
tions ■ .53,457
Engaged in agriculture .47,884
Hired our for farm and dairy work 7,560
f In the cotton mills as bobbin boys,
doffers, carriers, and spinners,
mainly ^.. : ... 2,304
The figures for girls of these ages in
North Carolina are even more striking:
Total engaged in gainful occupa-
tions 30,822
Engaged in agriculture 26,196
Hired out for farm and dairy farm
work 3,648
In the cotton mills as spinners,
winders, spoolers, weavers and
knitting mill operatives 2,319
These figures show that out of 84,279
children employed in gainful occupa-
tions, only 4,623, or 1 out of 16, were
employed in cotton mills.
If it is your Christian duty to strike
the shackles from child labor, why de-
vote all of your time to one and allow
the other fifteen to continue their
labors?
Before closing I wish to say a few
words relative to your proposed National
Child Labor Law. The child labor
question is not a national one and there
being different conditions in different
states, I believe that it is a question
that should be regulated by the states.
The whiskey question is a National
one because whiske}'^ can be carried or
shipped from one state into another
and there be used to debauch its citi-
zens.
The fact that a boy of thirteen works
in North Carolina, can in no M^ay injure
the citizens of New York or Massa-
chusetts, and, plainly speaking, it is
none of their business.
Because the citizens of North Caro-
lina will not do your bidding you now
seek to force your views upon them
through the National Congress. North
Carolina has always shown a regard for
the welfare of her citizens, no matter
how humble and has been a leader in
the enactment of laws for their moral
uplift.
We have driven from our state the
bar-room with its insidious influence;
the gambling halls and the dens of vice,
''ancl the observance of the Sabbath is
rigidly enforced.
Most of you come from cities where
the bar-rooms and the gambling dens
hold full sway, where the dens of vice
are filled to overflowing, and where
108
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
theatres and places of amusement run
full blast on Sunday.
Until you bring the moral stamina of
your own stat.'. on a plane with North
Carolina, you can hardly claim the
right to dictate the laws by which we
shall be governed.
In conclusion, I wish to say that the
cotton manufacturers of the South are
entitled to a square deal and I demand
that your representatives cease mis-
representing conditions.
If you feel that the enforcement of
our laws is your business and your duty,
I wish to make to you a practical sug-
gestion. When you find a case of em-
ployment of children under the legal
age, publish the name of the mill and
that of the child and its parents. Such
an act will cause the violation to cease,
and is far better than telling the world
that you know of such a case and in-
timating that it is usual.
I have not intended that this address
should give offense, because I believe
that most of those who are supporting
or' conducting your organization, are
Christian men and women, actuated by
an honest desire to help humanity.'; *«
I have stated plainly the facts, as I
see them and I thank you for your at-
tention.
SPRING IN CAROLINA
By George Lawrence \ndrews
Once more Spring like a startled, milk-white fawn
Looks up from riversides, from marsh and fen;
A sweet low voice doth thrill the scented dawn,
And Pan's flute-songs ring down the woodland glen.
High on the woodlands swells an eerie note,
And silver songs from where the brooklets flow;
A thousand soul-enthralling murmurs float
On breezes such as only here can blow.
The scense.s thrill to all this magic charm,
With eyes a-light we greet the Southern Spring,
And with the pulsing hills our hearts grow warm
The while our souls with birds enraptured sing.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
109
JOHN CHARLES McNEILL AND
THE SILVER CHORD
(By Mary Groome McNinch.)
The silver chord, is poetry
Of man, of beast, of thing,
Of God who shaped us from His thought.
And set the songs we sing.
Aye, rhythm is the magic string
On which ©od's systems twirl,
And endlessly around Him these
In melody do whirl.
Q^ GOTLAND has given us so much in
^^ song and story; tales of the ro-
mantic border life; poems of love and
war; history with all the enchantment
of Mary Queen of Scots, Macbeth and
the weird beauty and horror of his
witches; fiction from the pens of those
immortals, Sir Walter Scott and Rob-
ert Louis Stevenson; religion through
that brave, bold, true-hearted old pio-
neer of the Presbyterian faith, John
Knox, that it was with a keen sense of
pleasure that I learned that both of the
grandfathers of John Charles McNeill
came directly from Scotland, from
Argeylshire. So our poet, this South-
ern Burns, is only two steps removed
from a real Scotchman.
Like Burns, he also was born and
reared on a farm. On that plantation
on the Lumbee River there were spots
he never forgot and which he has made
famous. He was born on July 26, 1874,
and named John Charles for his two
grandfathers, John McNeill and Charles
Livingston.
"He was a beautiful child," said his
father of him; "many said the pret-
tiest boy the} ever saw*. He scarcely
ever cried, but his bright eyes sparkled
with joy and his sweet, expressive face
beamed with dimples and smiles at an^^
show of love for him." But none sus-
pected, doubtless, that behind the
sparkle of those eyes and "his sweet,
expressive face" was the kindling light
of an infant poet-soul, that later lighted
his pathway to fame and reflected such
glory upon his native state.
McNeill led the same kind of carr
free, happy life as does the aver^f ^
country boy. In the Spring helping to
drop the corn and plant the crops; in
the Summer, when the crops Avere "laid
by," fishing or swimming or picking
berries; in the Autumn watching the
men harvesting or off in the woods
gathering nuts, with school and Christ-
mas in the Winter to round out the
eventful year. And at all seasons there
was a calf to hold or cows to mind, and
it is pretty safe to assert that there is
personal experience and feeling in the
lines, "Holding of the Calf."
They all '11 tell you I wouldn't mind
A-holdin' the kef at all
If it didn't come at the very time
I hear the f)ther bo^'s call.
Jis' when I see 'em a-gfbin by
Wi' their dogs an' guns in a hurry.
An' I want to go, I hear maw cry
At she's ready to milk ol' Cherry!
An' there I stan' wi' the kef by the yur,
The boys done out o' sight.
An' maw a-whang, a-whang, jis' like
She aim to take all night.
'Bout sundown's time for the swimmin'-hole,
But from me it's mighty fur;
That's jis' the minute each l)Iessed day
I must ketch the kef by the yur.
The parson, my bud — he's a preaclier, you know,
110
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
But he can't git nowhere to preach —
Looks on wi's thumbs in 'is gallus straps,
Smihn' sweet as a peach.
The kef is a fool, don't mean no harm.
Only wantin' to suck;
But sometimes J. t so awful mad
I twisteis his yv xke a shuck.
They all say Lm lazy, no count in the worl'
Only to raise a low;
But I wouldn't _mind workin' all times o' day
'Cep the time for milkin' the cow.
Whenever the fellows go off to swim.
Along wi' their dogs an' gun.
That pore white kef, a-wantin' "his share"
Heads off both ends o' my fun.
But some sweet day I'll be a man,
An' when I'm boss myse'f,
I'll ketch ever' boy 'at stays on the place
An' put him to holdin' a kef!
As for plowing, why, there is very
little to be said of his plowing, he pre-
fering to let the horse or mule, as the
f-e might be, go his own sweet way
vvn the furrow while the future poet
Ilk in the beauty of the morning or
p_.. ^sed some favorite volume.
In school McNeill was always fore-
most. The master at Spring Hill, the
neighborhood school, said of him to his
father, "Your son, John Charles, is the
brightest and best scholar I ever had,
and I have taught for 20 years." It
seems that he took all the prizes and
kept the good will of his fellows also —
a hard task. At Whiteville Academy
and Wake Forest College the same
scholarship was noted, and being at the
head of his class at the latter place,
1898, he was valedictorian. He re-
mained there the next 3'ear as assistant
in English literature and took his
master's degree, also his degree from the
department of law.
During the next few years he was
assistant in English literature in Mercer
University of Georgia, practiced law in
Lumberton and Laurinburg, was a
member of the General Assembly of
North Carolina and also contributed
verse to the local papers and to The
Century Magazine.
He was not satisfied with his, labors,
however, until he finally decided to
devote himself to literature, and his
most succes^ul years, we may think,
were those spent in, Charlotte, where he
was on the staff of The Observer and
where he gave us "Songs Merry and
Sad" and "Lyrics From Cottonland."
In 1905 he was awarded the Patterson
loving cup, for the best literary work of
the year.
He fell on sleep October 17, 1907,
only 33 years of age. He was never
married.
Our most intimate description of him
is that given by his father:
"All loved him and he never spoke ill
of people. His predominating traits
were love and triith, gentleness and in-
tense love for God, all nature, and his
home and country. He grew to be tall,
slender and beautiful in form and fea-
ture. From his boyhood he was deli-
cate in his appetite. The table might
be loaded with luxuries, but he would
only choose milk and bread, with butter
and dainty fruits, not taking meats.
On returning home from long literary
trips, his first care, after the home
greetings, was the grave of his pet dog,
the lovely lawn and park, and the beauti-
ful Lumbee, or Lumber River, hard by.
With his fishing tackle, he would row
in his boat ' Neried ' over its bright
waters and come back with a string of
fish."
The poems in the two books men-
tioned above may be classified into
five general divisions or subjects, viz:
First: Poems of Negro Customs and
Superstitions; Second: Interpretations
of Child Life; Third: Occasional Po-
ems; Fourth: Poems of Nature; Fifth:
Poems of Love; Sixth: Poems of Re-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
111
Negro Customs and Superstitions.
John Charles McNeill is equaled only
by Joel Chandler Harris in his por-
trayal of the customs, tricks and super-
stitions of the negro people. This inti-
mate knowledge came from early asso-
ciation with the farm "hands," for whcj
chan all others upon which the negroes
are all well prepared to talk it is religion
and "hants," the "whys" and ' the
"wherefores" of creatio f>nd plans for
the final saving of the '^ock as the
"drippin' " snow. Dou tless he ha,d
seen the bags of "assyfioty" to ward
off disease, strings of sv- -rmp root to
r^
JOHN CHARLES McNEILL
does not know the wonderful fascina- keep the babies from teething hard, etc.
tion of a garrulous negro "uncle" or My own nurse advised me to let my
"mammy" for the white child? If baby wear a string of swamp root beads
there is one subject in the world more to help her cut her teeth easily.
112
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
MR. NIGGER
How could we do without you,
Mr. Nigger?
Could we not talk about ycu,
Mr. "vfigger.
We'd have to quit our politics,
'Twould put our papers in a fix,
We'd have to start and learn new tricks,
Mr. Nigger.
Ah, ragtime would be sadly missed,
Mr. Nigger! '
There'd be no elocutionist,
Mr. Nigger.
The coon-song's flow would there bo checked,
The minstrel show would soon be wrecked
And writers of your dialect,
Mr. Nigger.
********
Your fame is gone throughout the land,
Mr. Nigger.
The heart of all this mighty Nation
Is set to work out your salvation,
But don't yo-u fear expatriation,
Mr. Nigger.
Wishing
I wisht I wus a hummin' bird,
I'd nes' in a wilier tree.
Den nothin' but supp'm' wut goes on wings
Could ever git to me.
* *** * * * *.* *
I'd lak to'sleep in a holler gum
Or roost in a long-leaf pine,
Whar nothin' 'u'd come to mess wid me
Or a.v me whar I's gwine.
Three Hypotheses
If Marse Adam wus white, Rose Anner,
If Miss Eve wus white lak him
(Dat's how de pictures makes 'em;
De Scripturs a leetle dim),
Den whar did de nigger come fum?
'Twas a pine wid a 'simmon limb;
If Marse Adam wus white. Rose Anner,
En Miss Eve wus white lak him.
If Nora wus white, my honey,
(Nora wut built de ark)
Den de niggers' a sort er a blue-bird
Hatch out fum de egg er a lark.
********
'F you skint me slam fum head to heel.
New nigger-hide 'u'd sprout,
Yas; I's a sunburnt white man —
'F a minners' a little trout.
A Pallet Sleeper
I wish a man had a turnin' bed,
'Ca.se he roasties his feet en freezes his head,
When he gits all wrop' up in his civer
He can't turn roun' en he wont turn over.
Dat big far keep on gwine all night
(You kin tell dat fum de chinks bein' bright)
En de heat fum de far en de win' fum de hole
Keeps one een' hot en de udder een' col'.
Substitutes
We ain't gwine have no turkey,
Less'n we kills him wil'.
But we'll have a pot er cooter soup
Scum over wid cooter ile.
We ain't gwine have no poun' cake
When dat Chris'mus dinner come,
But '11 eat dat cracklin' bread all up
En hunt anudder crumb.
We mought not have no liquor
To make us dance aroun'
But 'simmon beer goes purty good
Ofter it settles down.
Interpretations of Child Life.
To accurately interpret the heart of a
child a writer must either have an ex-
cellent memory, that reproduces the
incidents of his own childhood or else
he must be a sympathetic observer of
the children about him. The former
method is the truer one. Haven't we
all played at keeping house beneath a
dog"v\''ood tree, or some other tree?
A Summer Resort
Under and in a dogwood tree
They've made a modern, fine hotel,
Owned by nobody but these three,
Mary, Alex and Osobel.
They've laid the ground floor off in squares
They've laid the ground floor oft' in squares
For rooms and hallways big enough,
The dogwood limbs are winding stairs
Up to the leaves, which are the roof.
Down near the ground the tree sends out
A fork, and thus it makes the door.
Where Alex stands or struts about.
Both porter and proprietor.
Mary is cook and awitress, too,
Isobel she keeps the house.
And all three take their turns to do
The milking of the Maypop cows.
This is to be a Summer home
For folks elsewhile in city pent.
And I, their press man, beg you come,
(The weekly rate is flat one cent.)
Fear not lest you be turned out doors,
The place stands good for any boost,
For, if no ground space should be yoiirs,
They'll put you on tHe stairs to roost.
Obedience
Min' yo_' ol' mammy, chilli;ns,
Smokin' in de do'!
Don't be mean, since she can't
Outrun you anv mo'.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
lib
Tot and Ted
If Tot and Ted would sit up late
Till all the coals died in the grate
And all the house grew still and dark
And Man, the cur, would not dare bark;
If they sat strill and bolt awake
And would not leave till broad daybi'eak
Their pains would be wirth while, because
Thej^'d get to see old Santa Calus.
How down the chimney does he squeeze?
How climbs he back with unskint knees?
Don't ask me questions, Ted and Tot;
You watch and see the how and what.
If you can stay awake — just so —
From sundown until rooster crow
And watch for Santa's furry hood,
You'll be the first that ever could.
Occasional Poems.
Among these only one or two will be
given, for while they are of excellent
worth they are not of such general
interest as are many others. There is a
wonderful "if" in the little poem, "For
Jane's Birthday."
For Jane's Birthday
If fate had held a careless knife
And clipped one line that drew.
Of all the yriad lines of life,
From Eden up to you;
If, in the v/ars and wastes of time,
One sire had met the swfcrd.
One mother died before her prime
Or wed some other lodr;
Or had some other age been blest.
Long past or yet to be.
And you had been the world's sweet guest
Before or after me:
I wonder how this rose would seem,
Or yonder hill-side cot;
For, dear, I cannot even dream
A world where you are not!
Paul Jones
His dust were as another's dust;
His bones — what boots it where they lie?
What matter where his sword is rust,
Or where, now dark, his eagle eye?
No foe need fear his arm again,
Nor love nor praise can make him whole;
But o'er the farthest sons of men
Will brood the glory of his soul.
Twice exiled, let his ashes rest,
At home, afar, or in the wave,
But keep his great heart with us, lest
Our nation's greatness find its grave:
And, while the vast deep listens by,
When armored wrong makes terms to right.
Keep on our lips l.'s proud reply,
"Sir, I have but begun to fight!"
The Child:
Mothered by Mary and Fathe.-ed by God,
O'er him a star, beneath him the sod,
Angels and men met about him to praise,
Child of a manger, the Ancient of Days,
Pilgrims have voyaged o'er desert and wave,
Wept in his garden, grieved at his grave;
Sing we today on the scene of his birth,
Not a mere manger, thank God, but the earth!
The last four lines of this Christmas
hymn are among the most beautiful he
wrote, and so typical of the wonderful
mother love.
Poems of Nature.
McNeill's nature poems are all so
beautiful it is very hard to say which
are the most characteristic. It is equally
hard to draw a distinct line between his
nature poems and his philosophical,, for
almost invariably he fuses the two, as
in the "Eastern Hymn," "A Chr'stma.
Hymn," "Dawn," "Sundown" and
others. Whole pages could fee written
on the beauty of his perception, the
accuracy of his observation, his power to
clothe a twisted limb with poetry, but
all this and more must be read into the
lines by him v/ho sees.
Dawn
The hills again reach skyward with a smile.
Again, with waking life along its way,
The landscape marches westward mile on mile
And time throbs white into another day.
Though eager life must wait on livelihood.
And all our hopes be tethered to the mart,
Lacking the eagle's wild, high freedom woitld
That ours might be this day the eagle's heart.
Harvest
Cows in the stall and sheep in the fold;
Clouds in the west, deep crimson and gold;
A heron's far flight to a roost somewhere;
The twitter of killdees keen in the air;
The noise of a wagon that jiUs through the gloom
On the last load home
114
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Tear Stains
Tear-marks stain from page to page
This book my fathers left to me —
So dull that nothing but its age
Were worth its freight across the sea.
But tear-stains! When, by whom and why?
Thus takes my fancy to its wings;
For grief is old, and one may or}-
About so many things!
The Rattlesnake
Coiled like a clod, his eyes the home of hate.
Where rich the harvest bows, he lies in wait.
Linking earth's death and music, mate with mate.
Is't lure or warning? Those small bells may sing-
Like Ariel's sirens, poised on viewless wing.
To lead stark life where mailed death is king;
Else nature's voice, in that cold, earthly thrill,
B'''=; good-avoid the venomed fang of ill,
And life and death fight equal in her will.
Because McNeill died in October,
and had written such a wonderful poem
called by the name of that month, we
are wont to think that the best of all
his nature poems; but what could be
sweeter, daintier, more filled with seas-
•"■"bleness than "September?" You
'^ .xi see the Indian Summer, feel it in
V 'ir blood when you read.
September
1 have not been among the woods,
Nor seen the milk-weeds burst their hoods,
' "he downy thistle-seeds take wing.
Nor the squirrel at his gathering,
And yet I know that, up to God,
The mute m.outh holds her goldenrod,
********
If yet, as in old Horner's land,
Gods walk with mortals, hand in hand,
Somewhere today, in this sweet weather,
Thinkest thou not they walk together?
Poems of Love.
In some of McNeill's love poems we
have true classics. And when I say
love I mean not merely the love of the
man for the maid but material love,
brotherly love, friendship, in fact love
cOward any object, animate or inani-
mate. One of Lhe airiest of his love
songs is "Love's Fashion." What man
but has met both Helen and Margaret?
Love's Fashion
Oh! I can jest with Margaret
And laugh a gay good-night.
But when I take my Helen's hand
I dare not clasp it tight.
I dare not hold her dear, white hand
More than a quiAering space.
And I should bless a breeze that blew
Her hair into my face.
********
So now, good-night, fair Margaret,
And kiss me, e'er we part !
But one dumb touch of Helen's hand,
And oh! my heart, my heart!
The Wife
They locked him in a prison cell.
Murky and mean.
She kissed him there a wife's farewell
The bars between.
And when she turned to go, the crowd,
Thinking to see her shamed and bowed,
Saw her pass out as calm and proud
As any queen.
********
They could not know how, when by nights
The city slept,
A sleepless woman, still and white,
The watches kept;
How her wife-loyal heart had borne
The keen pain of a flowerless thorn,
How hot the tears that smiles and scorn
Had held unwept.
The Bride
(One verse, the last.)
For days that laugh or nights that weep
You two strike oars across the deep
With life's tide at the brim;
And all time's beauty, all love's grace
Beams, little bride, upon your face
Here, looking up at him.
Religious Poems.
McNeill sounded his finest note in
his poems of religion and religious love.
His deep love for God and His handi-
work is revealed in almost every line.
To him there was the presence of God
in the least thing of creation, and in
presence of One of greater glory of the
earth he was silent. Only a few of these
will show the depth and sincerity of his
religious nature.
Vision
The wintry sun was pale on hill and hedge;
The wind amote with his flsil the seeded sedge;
High up above the world, new taught to fly.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
115
The withered leaves were hurled about the sky;
And there, through death and dearth, it went
and came,
The Glory of the earth that hath no name.
I know not what it is; I only know
It quivers in the bliss where oses blow,
That on the Winter's breath it broods in space,
And o'er the face of death I see its face,
And start and stand between delight and dole,
As though mine eyes had seen a living soul.
And I have followed it, as thou hast done.
Where April shadows flit beneath the sun;
In dawn and dusk and star, in joy and fear,
Have seen its glory far and felt it neat.
And dared recall his name who stood unshod
Before a fireless flame, and called it God.
Sundown
Hills, wrapped in gray, standing along the west;
Clouds, dimly lighted, gathering slowly;
The star of peace at watch above the crest —
Oh, holy, holy, holy!
V\"e know, O Lord, so little what is best;
Wingless, we move so lowly;
But in thv calm all-knowledge let us rest —
Oh, holy, holy, holy!
n. SCADEN
A MOONLIGHT SCENE IN "THE LAND
OF THE SKY."
-^
" De world owes every man a livin'," said L^ncle Eben, "but he's got to hustle
to prove de claim."
116
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
A DOORWAY TO THE WINTER W OoDs;
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
117
A DOORWAY TO THE WINTER
WOODS
•*•
( By Charles Farrell )
To him who is a lover of the open
road the wild grey winter woodland
whispers songs more soothing than the
sweetest rhymes. Early the lover of
nature senses the breath of golden
autumn. He hears in the high wind
and the keen rain the march of winter.
And he is glad. Again is the season
when he lives most intensefly. The
many watch thru the autumn Ithe fickle
beauties of summer fade, and rave over
the riotousness of the death bloom —
and go into winter quarters. But he
abides with winter. For he has learned
the truth that now' is the soul of Nature
bared to her friends, the few there are
to understand and love her. Gloomily
jolly companions are he and winter.
At some time of sorrowing for the
lost dreams and illusions of youth, at
some time when the reality of the
pathos of life has stolen upon you, find
out a spot in the twilight woods and
yield without compromise tc the soft
low- harmonies of winter. The d-^ad
weed stalks hanging ghostlike, grey
and brown, ^are whispering sweet so' ace
They too, have once been touched by
spring. The cold m.ist driven from the
north, sweet dews on a fevered brow.
The babble of waters, subdued condo-
lence. The lean creek stretching for .h
their naked arms to"u^elcome you to /'
sympathetic bosom of the woods. . . ^
perhaps, far away beyond the lint
tree shadow the dying sun breaks foi .
moment thru a bank of greay cloud and
lights the waters ^t your feet, you
stretch out your arms ih yearning to
this mysterious and unattainable gleam.
Night closes in. Darkness beyond the
line of tree shadow. The grey brown
waters of the brook babble on their
sorrow and understanding.
A GLIMPSE OF MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY— HOLLY HILLS ESTATE, TRYON, N. C.
118
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE APPLICATION OF ART
By Mary Hilliard Hinton
TF "Art is the divine expression of the
-*■ soul" one cannot refrain from
wondering why such an overwhelming
number of human beings are mute. Is
it a matter of absence of talent or neglect
of education? Certainly educators do
not place a proper value on the im-
portance of including Art in the essential
course of study. Every child should
have at least an elementary knowledge
of the history and application of this
branch of learning. It should be in-
cluded in every school's course and every
State of the Union should appoint and
maintain an Art Commission, whose
duty it should be to diffuse a wider and
more sensible recognition of one of the
strongest forces that has been em-
ployed in the uplift of the world. Al-
most every soul possesses an artistic
instinct unconsciously, for who does
I .1 adm.ire the exterior and interior,
as well as the grounds, of a perfectly
arranged home, it matters not whether
it is a cottage, simple and inexpensive,
or the palace of a multi-millionaire?
And all will admit that the well groomed
man and the tastefully gowned woman
leave always an enviable impression.
The average girl at school, should she
reveal any taste for paint or pencil,
feels a desire to cultivate the natural
gift, while her parents deem it a boun-
den duty to see that she takes lessons,
spending much money in carrying out
such plans. The said damsel after
leaving the selected institution of learn-
ing never thinks of using the knowledge
gained and applying it to life, to mak-
ing a home, or to dress. As a rule the
pupil sees no more ways or means oi
the utilization of Art than the ordinary
girl knows of the application of geom-
etry to architecture. The idea seems
wholly foreign to the majority.
Have we not seen those who blend
fabrics and colors perfectly, who car
make a home a thing of beauty, a
sweet haven of rest, by arrangement ol
every detail- — in all matters practical
but who at the same time could not
draw a cat, or a daisy, or mix the
paints on a palette. There the artistic
talent exists in the unpolished state,
Again often some painter produces
pictures and portraits worthy of com^
parison with the work of the great
masters, but who cannot apply tht
divine gift to the more material essen-
tials of the world. It seems lamentable
that both expressions cannot be com-
bined always and the masses made to
see the utility of Art, which is generally
regarded as a superfluous accomplish-
ment. The woman who can decorate a
cake, embroider a centerpiece, arrange
flowers, set a table for dinner or luncheon
in a striking way, who can make dainty
articles for his or her majesty the baby,
cut, fit, and make a stylish blouse, is
just as much an artist as some who are
enrolled in that visionary class so
called. The man who keeps his farm or
grounds in an ideal condition, or who
can publish an up-to-date hook, is
likewise a born artist.
As a nation Americans are not con-
sidered artistic. One strong proof of
this is we trade but little with France,
.for it is said our products do not appeal
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
119
to their fancy, a nationality that leads
the fashions and Art of the world.
There is much we can learn from the
English, who excel in a wonderful ap-
plication of Art in landscape garden-
ing and architecture.
May the day be near at hand when
the Women's Clubs will take up seriously
the labor of organizing branch clubs all
over North Carolina for the express
purpose of beautifying our fair land.
Farms' that are carefully worked and
adorned increase tenfold in value, be-
sides enhancing the happiness of the
occupants. Lillian Bell speaks forcibly
of the bleakness of rural America and
such it must remain till our people can
be educated to a keener appreciation of
Art.
Our grandmothers of the long ago
surpassed the daughters of today in
the exquisite quality of their needle-
work. The adage "Practice makes
perfect" being verified in that period.
The sewing machine and the broadening
of woman's sphere tend to lower the
standard for dt^inty stitched. Then,
too, the close contact in which the in-
habitants . of the world now . dwell
brings treasures from foreign latitudes
to us which are better for us to pur-
chase than to spend the golden moments
in their manufacture which could be
employed more profitably.
Several years ago a noted Southern
architect sumbitted a design, along with
the designs of others, for a public
building in one of our Southern cities,
that was accepted. Afterwards a friend
of his remarked that the finished and
artistic appearance of his drawing won
the contest. He is a man who expresses
his artistic talent in every phase of his
life. Simplicity is the key-note of his
accomplished tasks. If we could just
always remember that simplicity is the
first principle of Art, the adjustment
would not be complicated. Whenever
anything excellent is attained in archi-
tecture, there is a decided reversion to
the Greek ideal and simplicity, that
school so clearly demonstrated, was
requisite to the expression of grandeur.
The modern tendency to revert to tne
Colonial style in many ways is a moi^t
promising sign.
The lessons of the school-room and
studio are comparatively worthless un-
less utilized in after life. A knowledge
of mathematics, history, Art and phil-
osophy are as essential to the formation
of a well-rounded character and a good
education^ as the air we breathe is to
our lungs.
The sooner America realizes the need
of the application of Art to living, the
greater nation she will become.
-^
The fresh bright bloom of the daffodils
Makes gold in the garden bed;
Gold that is like the sunbeams,
Loitering overhead,
Bloom, bloom
In the sun and the wind, —
April hath a fickle mind.
— Cortissoz.
i:
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE MORAVIAN EASTER
(By Richard Elliotte)
'T^O HIM who has only heard of, and
-'- who has never come into contact
with that splendid people, there is
a certain mysteriousness shrouding the
name "Moravians" and in his mind
there sometimes arise vague, half strange
ideas of a people peculiar in certain
it be that they differ in this — that they
treasure with an undying affection all
sacred memories and things and that
in their devotion and reverence the
birth, the Passion Week, the death and
the resurrection of Christ have a place
hardly recognized in the lives of others.
A-M,
M
MORAVIAN CHURCH
respects. For instance, some months
ago I spent several hours going over the
city with an individual from Indiana,
an individual informed far above the
average. I had been with him for only
a few minutes when I learned that he
was greatly curious to "see a Moravian."
I explained to him that the Moravians
are a people in no sense peculiar, unless
Within their hearts they treasure
thoughts upon these sacred hours and
events; and their meditations thereon
undoubtedly give their character a
quality which would otherwise be lost.
It is for their observance of Easter
with a sunrise service that the Mo-
ravians are noted wherever their name
has gone. These services are attended
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
121
by thousands of people from all o\'er
North Carolina and other States. It
was my privilege to be one among the
thousands who participated in the
service last Easter morning; and never
have I witnessed anything so impressive,
so overwhelming, so tremendous in its
proportions as was that celebration of
the Resurrection of the Lord.
In casting about for information re-
garding the origin and development of
the Moravian Easter service I came
upon a pamphlet on the subject pre-
pared by Mr. J. H. Clewell, Ph.D.,
formerly president of Salem College,
now president of the Moravian Semi-
nary and College for Young Ladies,
Bethlehem, Pa. From this pamphlet I
have taken whole paragraphs bodily in
the preparation of this article and here-
with acknowledge indebtedness to Dr.
Clewell for the following splendid des-
cription of the Moravian Easter.
Three Events
In April, 1732, an early passer-by
would have noted a little company
gathered on the Hutberg, in Saxony.
On this hill was located the burying
ground, or "God's Acre," as it was
called by the people in the newly
founded town. The date was April 13,
the hour between 3 and 4 o'clock in the
morning. They were engaged in sing-
ing hymns, and, after spending an hour
and a half in this manner the company
returned to the church in the village
and concluded the somewhat unusual
service of the early Easter morning.
Tw^enty-eight years later, April 6,
1760, a similar company could have
been seen on a hilltop in North Carolina,
the object being the same, but the sur-
roundings were vastly different. This
was at Bethabara, 6 miles north of the
present towm of Salem, and 5,000 miles
away from Herrnhut, where the first
ser\-ice was held. The little six-year-old
town was beset wath Indians. Guards
were stationed, day and night, on the
hilltop, and even while the service was
in progress, these same sentinels, with
their guns in hand, scanned the sur-
rounding country to detect the first in-
dication of approaching danger. Then,
too, there were many newdy-made
graves. Seidel had died that year;
Kalberlahn had been taken to his last
resting-place; not less than twelve of
the most useful men and w^omen of the
little colony had died as the result of a
dreadful disease. Refugees were gath-
ered in a camp near the mill for mutual
protection against the Indians. A
company of soldiers on Easter Sunday
stacked arms outside the church and
listened to an earnest sermon from th'
godly Spangenberg. These are a few '
the circumstances. On this same d.'
before sunrise, a company of 15C .;_
and women, members and strar- .
filed up the hillside to the new "Hut
berg" as they termed their graveyara,
and united in the same hymns and con-
fessions heard in far-away Saxony, 28
years before.
One hundred and forty-one years
pass, and early on the morning of April
7, 1901, a company is seen in the Salem
graveyard in the early dawm of a lovely
spring morning. This again diflfers
widely in circumstances from the other
two occasions. The first company was a
small band of refugees from Bohemia
and Moravia, struggling in the midst
of the difficulties of the reorganization
of a church once powerful, but almost
crushed by persecution. The second
occasion was in the midst of the great
Indian war, and again the numbers were
small. The third occasion, nearly two
centuries after the first, was the gather-
ing together of between four and five
thousand people in a strong and well-
^
122
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE.
organized congregation and with peace
and prosperity about them. Diverse as
were these circumstances, we find the
same underlying object, the same hymns,
the same confessions of faith, the same
hope in the great truths contained
therein. There must be some special
power to hold this custom, practically
unchanged, in such love and esteem
from generation to generation, and from
century to century.
The Preparation
The season of Lent
is a preparation time.
Lent with the Mora-
vians is not observed
as a time of rigid self-
denial, differing in a
m.arked manner from
the remaining portion
of the year. They con-
sider that what is
' ong in Lent is wrong
'\ 'i'^h all the year.
, hat is right in Sep-
tember is right in
a-'ch. Still Lent is a
til when special
•rayer is offered, and
tfiforts put forth which
se'"V2 to prepare the
congregation for an Easter blessing. A
special series of sermons are delivered on
the Friday evenings of Lent. TheSun-
iiy evenings are chosen for topics bear-
ing upon the sufferings of Christ. In-
structions in the great doctrines of
Christianity are given at various
times and places. These seasons of
instruction are not limited to the
classes for confirmation, but are at-
tended by those who are very young,
often too young for church membership,
as well as by those who are advanced in
years and have long been church mem-
bers. Others attend who do not con-
template membership with the Mo-
ravian Church, for example, many
pupils in our schools. The candidates
for membership from the center of the
group. At least 300 persons were under
instruction in the Salem congregation
during the season of Lent, 1901, of
whom 49 united with the Church. ~
Passion Week
Passion week begins eight days before
Easter, and closes on
the evening of Great
Sabbath. The services
consist chiefly of the
reading of the Passion
Week Manual, a little
book containing a con-
secutive history of the
acts and words of the
last days of Jesus
Christ before his death
and burial. The Man-
ual was prepared from '
the Harmony of the
Gospels, and has been
in use for many gene-
rations in its present
form.
BISHOP RONDTHALER
A
Saturday Before
Palm Sunday
foi
the members of the
Sunday School was held Saturday even-
ing. Many other members of the con-
gregation were present. The lessons
covering the sufferings and death of the
Savior were reviewed, and the music
was very carefully selected. All the
exercises had a bearing upon the ap-
proaching Passion W^eek and Easter
celebration.
Palm Sunday
This is the special occasion for con-
firmations and receptions to church
membership. In the Home church the
pulpit platform is profusely and beau_
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
123
tifully decorated with palms of various
varieties, and the services are solemn
and impressive. After a brief but
earnest sermon by Bishop Rondthaler,
the candidates for church membership
are received by confirmation, by adult
baptism and by the right hand of fellow-
ship.
In the evening of Palm Sunday the
reading of the Passion Week Manual is
begun. In this service the account of
the triumphal entry into Jerusalem is
communicated, and 'the welcome of
the hosannas is described both in the
reading and in the hymns and anthems.
congregation, a small printed programme
guiding the members, so that not even
the announcing of the number of the
hymn breaks in upon the reverent
reading of this "sermon of Scripture
narrative."
The effect ol this form of service is
marked, upon children as well as upon
adults. Many young people attend,
and the impressions made are vivid,' the
results lifelong.
Thus, from evening to evening, the
story of the Savior's last words and
works of loving ministry is impressed
upon the hearers' hearts. The voices of
GRAVES SHOWING TABLETS IN MORAVIAN CEMETERY
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday
Each evening the reading of the Pas-
sion Week Manual is continued. The
method pursued in the services is unique,
simple but very impressive. The nar-
rative from the harmony of the Gospels
is read without comment on the part of
the minister, and this reading of the
actual words of Scripture froms the
main portion of the service. At intervals
carefully selected hymns are sung by the
young and old join in the beautiful
chorals, which express the Church's
faith and love with regard to the dear
Redeemer. In this solemn yet simp' :
way the interest deepens towards the
celebration of what is called the Maundy
Thursday of Holy Week.
Maundy Thursday
The idea of this day is directly set
forth by the meaning of the word itself,
the observance of the Passover. All is
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
centered around the celebration of that
feast, at which time the Holy Com-
munion was instituted, the most sacred
of all the Christian ser\'ices. There are
three meetings on Thursday.
At half-past two o'clock the account
of the institution of the Lord's Supper is
read, and also the high priestly prayer.
At four o'clock the description of the
agony in the garden of Gethsemane and
the betrayal by Judas, followed by the
arrest of the Savior.
In the evening the Maundy Thurs-
day Communion is celebrated, this
usually being one of the most largely
ment hall; the terrible scourging; the
cruel crown of thorns; the mockery;
the final condemnation to death by
crucifixion.
The afternoon meeting is at the exact
tim.c of day when the Redeemer died,
and this is the most solemn of the ser-
vices of Passion Week. The very
tragedy seems to be in actual enact-
ment as the account proceeds, and when
the words uttered by Jesus, when hang-
ing upon the cross are read, they im-
press the hearer with peculiar power.
Rev^'-ently the congregation kneels in
silent prayer after the w'ords, "Father
GATEWAY TO MORAVIAN CEMETERY
attended communions of the year, and,
c-^rtainly, one of tiie most solemn.
Good Friday
In Salem an early morning communion
is celebrated for those who were pre-
vented from attending the previous
evening.
These are three other rervices on
Good Friday. In the morning, the
narrative of the trial of Jesus before
Pontius Pilate is read. The account
shows the patient prisoner in the judg-
into thy hands I commend my spirit,
and having said thus he bowed his head
and gave up the ghost."
At night the account of the burial is
read, and with the continuation of the
same solemn and impressive music
which has thus far accompanied the
reading, the services of Good Friday-
are closed. This day is the one which
stands in strong contrast to Easter
Sunday, the one is pathetic, the other
all brightness and jov.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
125
Great Sabbath
The only service which is held on
Saturday, or as it is termed on the
Church Calendar, "Great Sabbath," is
the afternoon lovefeast. This service, a
revival of the "Agapae" of the early
church, is always attended by a very
large congregation and the music is a
special feature. The hymns used are
of such a nature that the mind is carried
back to the sufferings of the preceding
days and forward in the anticipation of
the resurrection.
Easter Sunday
With the advent
evervthing changes.
of Easter itself
Before the first
place in the front steps greeting the
multitude with the words:
" The Lord is risen,
The Lord is rl:'ni indeed.'"''
He then reads the first portion of the
Easter Litan^^ in which the ccngraga-
tion joins by responses and by suiging
of appropriate hymns.
The procession moves fi-om the church
to the graveyard, through the avenue
of giant cedars. The numbers are large,
there being usually from 4.000 to 6,000
persons present. The company of
musicians is divided into lvvo sections,
and as the vast but orderly procession
proceeds from the church to the grave-
yard, these two companies discourse
DECORATED GRAVES ON EASTER MORN IN JVlORAVIAN CEMETERY
appearance of dawn musicians visit the
various protions of the city and dis-
coursed melodies which breathe the
Easter spirit.
Later, the church bell is rung, and in
the very early morning the large con-
course of people begins to gather in
front of the church. At half-past five
o'clock the doors of the church are
thrown open, and the Bishop takes his
sacred music. One of the interesting
features is the antiphonal nature of the
music. The first division plays the first
line of the choral, the second company
promptly responding by playing the
second line, and even though these com-
panies are separated by a procession
consisting of a thousand people, the
rendering of this sweet music is as exact
as if the musicians stood side bv side.
126
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Thus they proceed, young and old
aHke interested, and reverently they
arrange themselves in open squares as
the formation within the sacred grounds.
When all have been placed in their
csitions, absolute quiet ensues as the
man of God again raises his voice in
the praying of the Litany of confession
of faith, and the congregation joins in
the hymns selected for this particular
service. The words of the confession
clearly describe the real idea of the
service on the graveyard. The early
hour is selected because Jesus rose early
on Easter Sunday morning. The place
is selected because as Jesus' body rested
in the tomb, so these graves contain
the bodies of loved ones. The dav is
chosen because it is the resurrection day,
and the congregation confesses its faith
in the resurrection of the bodies of the
Christian dead, and belief in the resur-
rection of our bodies when we have gone
to our own rest in the silent tomb.
After the service many remain " to
enjoy the beautiful flowers which the
hands of affection have placed on the
graves of loved ones.
By this time the sun has risen above
the horizon, and everything is bathed in
his glorious light, — the great cedars of a
century's growth; the fresh green sward
of early spring ; the flower dedked graves
with their spotless tombstones; every-
thing is bright and happy and speaks
the joys of Easter day.
4-
IN THE MORAVIAN GRAVEYARD
(By S. O. H. Dixon)
We stand and watch grass-covered beds wh'--'e lie
The bodies of the loved ones gone before.
They rest in peace while in the Home on High
Their spirits wait the Resurrection Morn
When clothed in robes of flesh once moie.
Recall the scenes of their earth homes and they may see
With eyes of love once more dear ones
Whowill there join them in that world
Where pain of parting never comes where Death
Can never enter, and where Jesus reigns
And all who love Him reign with Him
In joy and peace and life forevermore.
It is no longer sad to stand beside these graves
For here we see beyond those gloomy Gates ^
The open Gates of Heaven and the Home
That waits for those who love the Lord of All.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
127
A WINTER WALK
(By Lila Ripley Barnwell)
*' I ^HE majority of people seem to
-*- think that for six months of the
year the out-of-doors is absolutely
devoid of interest. Of course they are
not Nature lovers, else they would know
better.
The charm of the winter woods, how
wonderful it is, what marvellous secrets
are revealed, what amazing discoveries,
what delightful surprises! When the
woods call me I might as well at once
respond, for the plea simply grows more
and more insistent until I finally yield
to the overmastering temptation. The
call comes from many sources, and in
various ways, a dashing rain, a rustle of
leaves, the radiant sunshine, a trill
from a bird, the whispering wind, the
scent of a flower all bring the urgent
invitation to the marvellous out-of
doors. Added to these, and many more,
none is more urgent than that of Some-
body, my dog, who with persistent
entreaty pleads for a daily ramble. A
few days ago I planned to spend the
following morning in doing some long
deferred, much detested darning, a
little mending, and the making of a
cake. Just after breakfast, as I stood
for a moment at my window, a trim,
alert tom-tit flew into the maple at the
gate. Regarding me with an air of
astonished inquiry he seemed to say,
"What are you doing in the house on
such a delightful day?"
I replied, "The mud is dreadful, be-
sides I have so much work to do."
"Work," he contemptuously an-
swered, "Forget it on a day like this.
and as for the mud there is none in
the woods."
I shook my head, hesitatingly, and
then a tiny chickadee, in a natty suit
of gray with black trimmings, came
along, and he too regarded me with
surprise and said, "The very idea of
staying in a house when there is such
sunshine, and acres and acres of trees
and fields."
I cast one look at the hated darning
bag, hastily' put on a short skirt, and
then down stairs and away, Somebody
barking joyously as the gate slammed
behind us. We walked rapid'/ ;mtil
we left the town, then we slac." 2d
our pace, and began to enjoy life
An inviting little patch took us ..
the travelled high-way into a thic'
of laurel and rhododenderon. P
crisp and fresh they looked, th
polished green leaves glistening fr-
the recent sleet and snow. The point
compact buds of the rhododendron ai
all ready for next July's sunshine Lf
open them into exquisite clusters ^
blossoms. A short distance beyond v
corssed the merry, racing brook, laugh-
ing its way to the Mississippi.
Only last week its laughter was pent
up under the ice, but even then you
could hear its song and its cheerful
gurgle as it rebelliously struggled in its
imprisonment. The brambles were like
green braidings over the bare, black
branches of a group of wild plum trees,
and their bluish purple .berries were
affording a feast for some birds who
shyly flew into a sheltering cedar as I
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
came' near. There were some snow
buntings, sparrows and a handsome
jay. The latter fearlessly regarded me,
and plainly resented my intrusion. The
jay is cruel, rapacious, quarrelsome and
plebian, but for all his faults he is good
looking and well dressed. His clear
call is sweet and musical, but the harsh
tones of his anger are rasping and dis-
agreeable. A huge oak log lay across
the path, a fallen giant. It was so
quietly beautiful, returning to earth
again, perhaps to come back some day
in the vigorous strength of a young
tree, as yet an unfallen acorn. The
bark had long since been replaced by
thick, velvety green moss, and at one
end a large bunch of ferns flourished in
its decay, and right through the old
trunk a sour-wood had grown to the
height of six feet or more. I love the
hcidv ferns. They are so brave, some-
■ • " completely flattened under the
. ^it of snow and ice, but as soon as a
i^reath of warm air shakes it off, up
they spring as though invigorated and
refresLed by the experience. The stump
Oi the fallen oak was literally covered
with moss in varying varieties and
shades of green. At the base I found a
perfect bed of arbutus, the clusters of
tiny buds only waiting to burst into
pink and white fragrance, as soon as
March says, "Spring".
Water was softly dripping from long
icicles at the old quarry, and every now
and then one would dash away from the
huge mass to break into a thousand
pieces on the rocks below. Nature is
busily engaged up there in covering the
scars made by heavy blasts. Already
some of the great rocks are ornamented
by numerous patches of gray and green
lichen ; relieved by bright spots of the
same in pink and crimson Virginia
Creeper has cast graceful festoons over
their rugged sides, and tiny ferns were
springing from the minute cracks. For
the latter there seemed to be absolutely
no soil, but nevertheless, they were
gay and flourishing.
Then we came to the pines, my
cathedrals of the forest, the soft, tan,
brown needles making a veritable carpet
upon which the foot falls noiselessly,
their resinous odor a grateful incense,
and the murmuring winds, through the
heavy branches answer for chants and
prayers. In the dark protection of
these somber, dignified trees the dainty
pipsi&sewa was growing in profusion, its
sharp pointed leaves marked through
the center with deep cream, shading to
silver. '
That term "Inanimate nature" never
seems properly applied to the out-door
world of wonders. To me there is no
inanimate nature. All things, trees,
flowers, hills, rocks have their own in-
dividuality, their own power of expres-
sion, their helpful messages to those
who know who to receive them, but
Oh, how few are able
"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And. a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity' in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour."
In ravines, and upon northern hill-
sides, the snow lay soft and white. I
love the snow, for like the lovely mantle
of charity it diffuses kindness and good
cheer upon a needing earth. How it
smooths rough places, rounds angles,
beautifies blemishes, and softens shapr-
ness. Then its unseen benefits as it
protects the germinating grain under its
warm, white blanket. " Plenty of snow,
plenty of wheat" is a saying that the
farmer well understands. On a white
hill-side there were tiny tracks, evidently
those of B'rer Rabbit. Following them
for a short distance led us to a sight of
him, quietly meditating beside a shelt-
ering rock. Somebodv is not a rabbit
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
129
dog, but he sprang forward, eager for
the chase. With a few bounds Bunny
leaped into the safety of a tangled mass
of dodder and blackberry canes. Some-
body gave a few impatient sniffs, then
hurried back to me excitedly declaring
that he had made him run away.
Climbing- down a steep bank we came
to the creek where it dashes over a
rocky shoal to a pool about two feet
deep. Gazing into its clear depths I
saw jolly, little minnows playing as
merrily as children. Hiding under
rocks, darting beneath the overhanging
banks, swimming and frisking as though
they were playing tag. Not a whit did
they mind the cold. Few people know
how the trout revel in icy waters.
Nearly all fish spawn in the spring, but
the trout, hardy mountaineers that they
are, lay their eggs in November. They
love the cold water, and if there is a
portion of ice in it, so much the better.
A clump of hazel-nut bushes caused me
to pause in a vain search for nuts.
The squirrels had, no doubt, carried
them off long ago. Coming silently over
the thick grass we reached the head of
the lake, fringed about with waving
stalks of cat-tails, their tan fronds
fluttering in the gentle breeze. Alder
bushes in sturdy abundance grew in
the damp soil, their garnet buds all
ready to scatter yellow pollen at spring's
first invitation. Stepping upon a partly
submerged log, I heard a ker-splash,
and the widening circles showed where
some creature had dived. A muskrat
probably, but I could not get a glimpse
of him though I watched for a long
time. One da,^/ I s?"*^' one of these in-
teresting, little animals. He looked like
a cocoanut with the husk left on, a
queer, brown ball. With his sharp
teeth he was rapidly cutting some
aquatic plans for dinner. After a
moment his keen eyes spied me, an
intruder, instantly he disappeared, and
not another sight of him did I get.
Climbing the hill we wandered through
the orchard, the bare branches of the
apple trees silhouetted against the sky
in sharp outline. There were several
empty nests so securely placed that
neither wind nor storm had been able
to dislodge them. My friends the
orioles, the cat-birds and the robins
were all here last season. North of the
orchard a row of tall poplars stood like
sentinels, their smooth, gray trunks
sometimes forty or fifty feet before
showing a limb. The empty flower cups
rattled raspingly as the wind struck
them against each other. Strange that
they cling so long. Not until the tree
is almost ready to flower again will they
release their hold. Then there is the
sycamore with its fuzzy balls clinging
persistently until March. No fierce
wind, no heavy sleet, no weigl.' of
snow ever breaks the slender core, by
which they hang. Indeed it takes a
strong hand to dislodge them, but when
March comes how they burs^ and
scatter their silky, downy seeds, every-
where they float, gathering, scattering
running, resting, it is March, and they
hold high carnival. A gorgeous cardi-
nal gros-beak gave me a saucy nod from
a berry laden cedar. Very handsome he
looked in his well fitting gray overcoat,
showing his red plumage underneath in
brilliant contrast.
Down through a narrow hollow where
the snow still lay over the beds of ferr
and partridge vine, across a tumblin
branch, and up a hill to the back of ]\.
B — 's premises. Everything about tha
place gives evidence of thrift and pros-
perity. He has no reason to worry over
the high cost of living. In a small en-
closure were three enormous Berkshire
hogs, their eyes scarcely visible in their
fat faces. Or 3 moment they paused from
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
their rooting in the rich woodland, and
then continued as industriously as
though their lives depended upon find-
ing another chestnut or acorn. Their
clumsy figures were suggestive of saus-
age, spare-rib, juicy ham, and other
good winter living. A certain physician
has said that the digestive organs of a
hog and those of a man are more nearly
alike than those of any other creatures.
Certainly some human beings are quite
hoggish, and some hogs are even quite
human, but to be spoken of as a hog
or hoggish is not a compliment either
CO the man or the hog.
Returning to Mr. B — 's premises, an
inquisitive, little mule colt pertly thrust
his head over the barn yard fence, and
allowed me to rub his satiny, brown
nc..^. His mother gazed at us from an
open window of the barn, and whinnied
sof-^ly as he followed us along the fence.
On the other side ten head of sleek,
coi -fed cattle were idly nosing over
som( corn stalks and straw, while a
f'->z.^ii, or more, busy hens searched for
•..cattered grain. A pompous Plymouth
x^'-^ck rooster, perched upon a wheel-
barrow gave a lusty crow, and a number
of guineas screamed 'pot-rack, pot-rack.'
Huge mounds of turnips and cabbage
were in the shelter of the well filled crib,
and two fine cows were drinking from a
trough under a big, leafless maple.
The sun disappeared under a mass of
b-llow gray-black clouds, and the air
was soon full of cool moisture indicating
rain or snow. Pinnacle, my favorite
nountain, looked almost navy blue in
le deep shadows, the ice covered
precipices on its giant side gleaming
silvery and dazzling against the dark
background.
A shrieking engine on the Toxaway
R. R. told of an approaching train in
the valley below, and we turned to
watch the beauty of the wreathing
smoke, as in soft, gray masses it rose
to disappear in the humid atmosphere.
Momentarily the brisk, little train was
an added feature in the beauty of the
landscape, and the music of the rails
could be heard as it r eked along far
out of sight. Down the hill again and
then to an upland pasture. Three
placid cows were at the bars, one red,
with a star in her forehead, one a grade
jersey, with deer like eyes, and one
black, with a white saddle on her back.
The latter had also a crooked horn, and
a: sort of cast in her eye which gave her
a sinister appearance. Warning Some-
body to be quiet we passed along with-
out disturbing their equanimity. In
ruminating content they chewed their
cuds while their breath rose like steam
in the cold air. Daisy plants were
everywhere, wonderfully green, and a
wide leafed plant of lighter shade,
whose name I do not know, galax in its
artistic blending of rich color, greenish
gray saxifrage, and numerous beds of
exquisite moss in great variety.
At the spring in Columbia Park I
stopped as I always do. It is a cherished
spot, full of happy, youthful memories,
and sad to me will be the day if its
crystal purity, and joyous bubbling is
changed or hidden by the so-called
March of Progress. Follcwing the
spring branch we came to the mudd>-
road. A thick tuft of matted grass and
bullrush seemed to offer a secure footing,
but no sooner was my weight upon it
than the treacherous mass gave wav,
and deep into the mud I went. Strug-
gling to regain my footing I fell sprawl-
ing to Somebody's interested amazv.-
ment, and my discomfiture. My shoes,
overshoes and stockings were all a
bright red clay color, that was horrid,
but the walk more than compensated
for the disagreeable experience.
Nearing the town we passed the home
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
131
of a lady, who happened to be on her
piazza, with a piece of embroidery in
her hand. She came out just in time
to observe my bedraggled appearance,
and she said, "Where on earth have
you been?" and when told that I had
been walking for pleasure she incredul-
ously replied, "In this mud! how could
you, see what I have been doing." She
held up the embroidery, it was beautiful,
ard also intricately marvellous to me.
I could not have done it to "save my
life, no not in a thousand years. My
admiration was sincere, but not in the
least tinctured with envy. How fortu-
nate it is that tastes differ. She really
loves her dainty work, and finds in it
her pleasure, even as I love and find
my enjoyment in long tramps through
the fields and woods. She has her
embroidery, while I have the intimate
con panionship of the blessed out-of-
doors.
^
APPALACHIAN SUNSET
(By T. M. Henley)
A light that gleams on tree-tops
A brook; and, far away, hills,
Smoke-clouded, towering, awesome;
Empyrean vistas sun-ward.
Pathways to the glory-land ;
A glen, shadfe-shrouded, darkling,
With wood-ways oaken-columned;
Elfin murmurings of pines,
That whisper lore forgotten;
Twilight sounds calling softly
From moor, and fen, and forest;
And, over all, the spirit
Of blessed peace that reignetb —
It is sunset in the hills.
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
CONCERNING O. HENRY AND THE
OLD NORTH STATE
♦
(By Mrs. J. M. Gudger and Archibald Henderson)
(Presentation remarks of Mrs. James M.
Gudger, Jr., of Asheville, N. C., on
the occasion of presenting the com-
plete works of O. Henry to the
Women's Congressional Club library'
at Washington, D. C.)
FROM out the galaxy of Southern
States North Carolina shines re-
splendent— made famous in song
ai d story because of her historic setting,
for was it not within her borders Vir-
ginia Dare, the first white child born
to the Western world, first saw the light
of day?
Was it not 'ong before the famous
Tea Party at Boston Harbor, that the
patriotic women of Edenton, North
Carolina met in defiance to the crown
of England and refused to use tea during
the pendency of the English Stamp act?
Was not the first great battle of the
American Revolution fought on Caro-
lina's soil? the battle of Alamance on
May 16, 1771.
Did not the people of Mecklenburg
proclaim the Declaration of Independ-
ence in 1775, one year before the Con-
vention in Philadelphia 1776?
Ever conservative as a "great state.
North Carolina, during the war between
the States was the last to leave the
Union and join the Confederacy — yet
she furnished more' soldiers than she
had voters, and left more men dead on
the battlefields than any other Souiuern
State. For bravery and heroism her
soldiers stand without a parallel — first
at Bethel — fartherest at Gettysburg — ■
and last at Appomattox.
Years have passed — still true to the
call of her country and worshipping at
the shrme of liberty, North Carolina
was again called upon to record history.
She furnished the first soldier to spill
his blood and lose his life in the War
with Spain. Worth Bagley, a brother
of our beloved Mrs. Daniels, wife of the
Secretary of the Navy, gave his young
life — a sacrifice upon the altar of his
Country.
To the literary world North Carolina
has contributed one of the greatest
geniuses of the age — O. Henry (William
Sidney Porter), and linked as if by
some magic power, and strange destiny
we find that Worth Bagley and O.
Henry — heroes of sword and pen —
were close kinsmen. Worth Bagle}'.
the grandson of Jonathan Worth and
William Sidney Porter, grandson of his
sister Ruth, who had m.arried Sidney
Porter of Connecticut.
This gifted son of the State was born
at Greensboro in the historic County of
Guilford, where he lived until his
twentieth year. In 1882 he went to
Texas to live and in 1902 to New York
where he spent the last years of his life
until 1910.
Proud to honor her noble sons, a
marble statue and bronze tablet have
been placed at Raleigh our State's
Capital — memorial tributes of loving
people.
Today, February the 24th, 1915, is
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
133
set apart as "Book Day" and will
mark an epoch making period in the
history of the Women's Congressional
Club. I congratulate Mrs: Dick Morgan
of Oklahoma, Chairman of the Book
Committee, upon the splendid plan of
collecting the best literary productions
from each State, and honoring the
writers by eulogy and contribution,
which action will have a tendency to
uplift and harmonize the future mem-
bership of the club.
To have been selected to represent
my beloved State on this occasion is
an honor I deeply appreciate, and in
behalf of the North Carolina delega-
tion in Congress, together with the
Members of the Club, Mrs. Page, Mrs.
Small, and myself, we contribute the
works (twelve volumes) of O. Henry
(William Sidney Porter) than whom
perhaps no writer of the present age
has so touched and stirred the hearts
of the American people. His v\'onderful
power of personal touch, his combina-
tion of the tragedies and comedies of
real life, mingled with tenderness and
pathos is only capable of being expressed
by one who had felt, and realized the
real meaning of life.
Almost at the beginning of a marvel-
ous career death claimed him for his
own, but the influence brought to bear
by his writings, and the precious legacy
he has left behind will live through the
ages, and his stories will touch the hearts
of coming generations and inspire them
to higher aims and nobler ambitions. —
(Dr. Archibald Henderson's tribute to
O. Henry on the occasion of the placing
of the marble statue and bronze
tablet in the State Capital at Raleigh.)
"This ancient commonwealth, which
has given to the nation and the world
such great figures in the presidency as
Andrew Jackson, Andrew Johnson and
James K. Polk; in military genius as
Pettigrew and Hoke; in statesmanship
^Samuel Johnston, Nathaniel Macon,
William A. Graham, George Davis,
Thomas Hart Benton and Zebulon B.
Vance; in law as Iredell and Ruffin; in
oratory as Hooper and Gaston — this
ancient commonwealth here dedicates
to posterity the name of a great literary
genius, the greatest American short-
story writer of our day, "O. Henry."
W^e glory in the thought that North
Carolina, this home of democracy, this
cradle of American liberty, should have
produced, as the greatest man of letters
in her history, a true democrat with an
tional abiding love of human liberty—
and a national American to the heart's
core, instmct with the spirit of fair play
and inspired with love for his fellow-
man; a true son of the South, buoyant in
nature, richly imbued with the larger
human sentiment, and joyous with the
spirit of the new romance. "In every
heart," he once said, in words perma-
nently eloquent of his faith, "there is an
innate tendency towards respectable
life, and even those who have fallen to
the lowest step of the social ladder
would, if they could, get back to the
higher life. The innate propensity of
human nature is to choose the good
instead of the bad."
I offer this tribute to that lovable
figure enshrined in the hearts of mil-
lions under the name of "O. Henry,"
who lived to the gull his halcyon day,
from the morn of laughter to the night
of tears, and out of the richness and
variety of this wholly human life be-
queathed to the world a literary legacy
so compact of original genius, of mar-
vellous technicque, of rich humor, of
shrewd philosophy, and of loving ten-
derness, that for its high art and sheer
humanity it shall endure as long as
American literature itself shall endure.
Upon this tablet, here given to the
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
State by a loving people, stand inscribed
his own words from one of those short-
stories which made him great — words
which lor all time epitomize his life and
immortalize this fame: —
"He no longer saw a rabble, but his
brothers seeking the ideal."
FAREWELL
(By R. E. Walker)
Friend, -to whose imperial soul mine own
Goes our, as if in some eternity
That died before the worlds grew in the mind
Of God, we lived in bonded love and dwelt
Secure from every hurtful thing amidst
The gurgling streams and whispering leaves of some
Far off and happy vale, whose fruiting groves
And mossy slopes the gods have taken for
Themselves to keep and guard for eye from man's
All-blighting, sinful tread,— our ships have passed
As in the night; and now, with every day,
Our barks are borne apart; and may you find
No vexing winds, no spiteful shoals, no seas
That furious leap to swamp your noble sail
.Till each with his own mind has found that long
Sought shore toward whose far off, mysterious sand
And siren-voiced waves ail men are rdrawn.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
135
THE RELIGIOUS CRISIS IN MEXICO
(By Ben Muse)
ONE Morning while in the city of
San Luis Potosi, Mexico, a Mexican
friend invited me for a drive in one of
the typical coches. My companion was
a young man of the better class, refined
and well-dressed, having been educated
both in Mexico and in the United States.
He took me into the suburbs of the city
and showed me a bit of the living con-
ditions of the poorer classes. The dirty
hovels, their ragged clothing, and their
own suffering and ill-fed selves all
suggested the bitterest poverty. They
were just what I expected to see, and
just what I had seen everywhere I had
been in Mexico. There is not a corner
of the country in which the effects of
four years of confusion and lack of work
are not being painfully felt. The
number of Mexicans who have no homes
at all and who sleep on sidewalks, in
depots, under box-cars, etc. in all parts
of the country probably mounts into
the hundreds of thousands.
Then he took me up a pleasant
avenue to the center of the city, where
he showed me the theatre, the public
buildings, and most interesting and
most imposing of all, the cathedrals
and the bishops palace. The churches
here as they are in every Mexican city,
were far out of proportion to their sur-
roundings in splendor. These were
edifices which should rival the best in
American cities of many times the size
of San Luis Potosi.
"This is a d — n shame. Isn't it?"
my friend observed. "Do you know, I
believe this whole thing is either a
monstruous mistake or a great fraud
practiced on these poor, stupid peones.
If there hundreds of thousands of hard
earned pesos had not been spent in this
way, they could all be well clothed and
fed — and educated. I don't think there
is any need of churches. I don't believe
there is any God."
This is Mexico's religious crisis. It is
a crisis of m.ore importance than the
political crisis through which it is
passing. Revolutions, as the reader i
aware, are cornmon in Mexico, but a
widespread wave of atheism and oppj-
sition to the Roman Catholic Church
in a country which has humbly sub-
mitted to its rule for four hu' 'red
years is a matter of more than passing
importance.
The one outstanding defect in ":he
Aztec ci\'ilization was their appt;" ng
barbarism of their national religion.
Thirty thousand human beings v/ere
annually sacrificed to Huitzilipochtli in
Mexico City alone. Superstition, which
changes easily for piety, as an important
part in the I^.Iexican character dates
back before the dawn of history in this
continent.
. Hence Mexico was an excellent field
for the expansion of the Roman Catholic
church and Spain, its great stronghold.
The change was briefly brought about,
and the Mexican devotions and re-
ligious energies, not to mention the
tithes were turned from Mexica to
Roman Catholicism. God was easily
substituted in the Aztec mind for
Hiutzilipochtli, the Roman Catholic
136
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
and biblical saints lor the Mexican
deities, and the Roman Catholic cath-
edrals for the Mexican temples. Thus
the Roman Catholic church became
powerfully rooted in the republic and
gained the almost absolute power which
it has been able to wield ever since.
There is no doubt but what the
lowest form of the Roman Catholic
church is today found in Mexico. The
dark ignorance and the poverty under
which the Mexican peon has laboured
for centuries is due to the church more
than to any other one factor. Being
always the power behind the throne or
the government itself, it has been the
greatest obstacle in the way of Mexican
self-government.
At last, however, the country is
awakening . Although it has been little
stressed in this country, one of the
principal objectives of the revolutions
which have taken place in late years
h^.ve been the destruction of the power
of ^^'j church and the establishment of
rfil religious liberty. In many places
the confessionaries and other especially
obi ixious features of the church were
al 'shed by law as soon as they were
captured by the revolutionary army,
and for the first time in the history of
the country, the laws have been applied
to priests the same as to other people,
many of them having been jailed or
forced to leave the country.
"Death to the clericalistas ! " Among
the common peones who have suffered
most the feeling against the church is
more intense and more violently ex-
pressed. Where the authorities have
been unable to control them they have
lynched priests, demolished church prop-
erty, and committed many other "out-
rages." Priests are afraid to show their
faces, and they are fleeing the country
by the hundreds. No longer does the
excommunication of the bishop strike
terror into the heart of the revolutionist.
The Roman Catholic church has
obviously lost its grip on the people of
Mexico, and it will never regain any-
thing like the power in that country
which it has heretofore enjoyed. There
is a mighty and widespread wave of
opposition to the Romand Catholicism
sweeping over the country, but the sad
question is: What is following in its
wake ? — Atheism .
^
DOES IT DO ANY GOOD?
Does it do any good to worry,
When the days are lone andl ong.
Does it do any good to worry,
If life is not one glad song?
Does it do any good to worry,
When the rain comes pouring down.
Does it do any good to worry,
Or meet your friends with a frown?
Does it do any good to worry.
Because your life is a pull;
Does it do any good to worry.
If your pockets are not full?
Does it do any good to worry,
If you are doing the best you can:
Would it not be far better.
To take things like a man?
— Mrs. E. M. Anderson.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
137^
SOME FAMOUS PEOPLE I HAVE
KNOWN
(By Clarence Scroggs, City Editor Winston-Salem Journal)
TN writing on - such a compre-
-*■ hensive subject, it is necessary to
eliminate from the list all of those of
merely local reputation, and the theme
of this article will be rather some recol-
lections of those who are known to
fame all across the continent.
Many of these people I have inter-
viewed, some of them at great length.
Others I have only seen in their work.
William Jennings Bryan
Probably the most famous man who
has visited this city, more in the lime-
light at present than any of the others,
is Hon. William Jennings Bryan, Sec-
retary of Jcate, chatauqua lecturer, and
grape juice advocate.
Mr. Bryan lectured on the subject
"Motherhood", at the Paramount the-
ater, then the Liberty theater, a number
of years ago under the auspices of the
Y. M. C. A. There was a large attend-
ance; and the address delivered in the
oratorical style for which the Nebraskan
is famous made a profound impression.
I interviewed Mr. Bryan just a mo-
ment before the curtam rose, and just
before he entered upon the stage. Mr.
Bryan at that time was not in the
spirit of being interviewed. He was
thinking of hip audience. He took up
the short time available in asking
questions about the time for the rais-
ing of the curtain, and when it suddenly
shot up he was upon the stage.
Tyrus Cobb
Now that the fans in the south are
beginning to read the early sporting
news, Tyrus Cobb, the Georgia peach,
will be a good man to write of. Cobb,
the idol of baseball fans in the Nation,
visited Winston-Salem several years
ago when the Glidden Tour was con-
ducted over the then recently established
National Automobile Highway.
Ty Cobb was bashful. That could
not be denied by anyone. He was
finally found in the large and brilliant
assemblage that gathered in the palm
room of the Hotel Zinzendorf as well
as we can remember by Hon. Clement
Manly of Winston-Salem, who insisted
that the famous baseball star addre s
the audience, for standing' behind tx.e
many beautiful women in the audi'^-:ce,
could be seen a fringe of kids anxious ^z-
see their idol.
Ty resisted. He vainly strove to
escape from the place. But escape _s
impossible, and he finally mounted the
rostrom and began to speak. He was
embarrassed. But he was the cente- of
interest of the Glidden tour. He began
slowly, bashfully. He declared that he
had no right to usurp so much time;
that he was only a plain chauffeur. He
pawed the floor, wiped his sleeve across
his eye, but he managed to speak for
about two minutes.
If memory serves us right, he spent
the remainder of the evening at the
Elks' Club, corner Liberty and Fifth
streets.
Dr. Frederick Cook
Dr. Frederick Cook, of North Pole
-fame, visited the citv a number of
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
years ago, and was interviewed for a
space of about two hours in room 213
of Hotel Zinzendorf. He lectured that
evening at the Elks' Auditorium to a
large and appreciative audience.
Dr. Cook arrived at the Hotel v/hile
the Circulation Managers of North
Carolina were in session, and he was
the guest of that association for an hour
or more. Dr. Cook talked principally
of his experience !n the polar regions,
and lectured on the same subject that
evening at the Auditorium. However,
much of his time was taken up in the
evening address in defending his title as
champion pole discoverer against the
claims of Dr. Peary.
A No. 1
- Everyone, perhaps, who reads this
has seen the mark of this famous tramp
at some point or other in the State. A
No. i, is not only a very real man, but
he is a fine fellow. A No. 1 is interesting.
That fact cannot be denied by anyone
who has ever talked to him.
A No. 1 blew into the city on the rods
one afternoon. I saw him in the edi-
torial rooms of the Twin-City Daily
Sentinel. He came armed with a
little book that was one of the most
interesting do<^uments we have ever
seen.
About the most interesting items in it
was a statement by Col. Theodore
Roosevelt to the effect that A No. 1
is O. K., and another statement written
and signed by Jack London to the effect
that he and A No. 1 had traveled to-
gether considerably.
There were many other interesting
items -of a similar character. A No. 1
was here selling his book, warranted to
cure all youngsters of the wanderlust.
Josephus Daniels
Josephus Daniels, Secretary of the
United States Navy, has visited Wins-
ton-Salem frequently. However, the
only time within our memory was at
the banquet on the completion of the
Winston-Salem Southbound Railway,
when many prominent newspaper men
as well as other prominent men were
here.
His visit at that time impressed us
principally on account of the splendid
joke gotten off at Mr. Daniels' expense
by an N. & W. Railway attorney, who
referred to the then Editor of the News
and Observer as, "As mild a m.annered
a man as ever cut a throat or scuttled a
ship." The witticism brought down the
house, the genial editor laughing as
heartily as the other of the two hundred
attendants.
Lincoln Beachy
Lincoln Beachy was not famous when
he visited Winston -Salem. Indeed, he
was an amateur aviator. But he had
the daring, the iron nerve, and every-
thing else necessary to success. He
made a beautiful flight, and by the way
the first and only aeroplane flight ever
made in Wihston-Salem. He used a
Curtis bi-plane and gave a fine exhi-
bition at Piedmont Park, which on
account of the bad weather was not
very well attended.
Since that time, however, Beachy
has won a reputation that is national as
an aviator.
Barney Oldficld
Barney Oldfield, the speed king, hero
of many a hard-fought automobile race,
passed through the city over the Na-
tional Highway several years ago en
route to Atlanta. He has about con-
cluded his racing career when he passed
through.
He was surrounded in front of the
Hotel Zinzendorf and taken to the
Twin-City Club where he was enter-
tained.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
139
Ol^afield was absolutely a man. He
was simple, sincere, and absolutely
unaffected, and many of the club
members enjoyed hearing him tell of
his big races in the years gone by-
Famous Singers
Notwithstanding the fact that there
are musical traditions hovering around
Salem covering a period of over a
century, it has been Winston-Salem's
misfortune never to have very many of
the famous singers.
There is possibly no reason for it
other than that no one has ever at-
tempted to secure them.
As far as our memory goes, the only
singer of really national reputation who
has ever appeared here was Madame
Calve, who was at the Elks' Auditorium
several years ago. Madame Calve sang
herself into the hearts of her audience,
being especially effective in her selec-
tions from "Carmen," upon which her
reputation principally rested.
Only Lwo other singers have appeared
here in recent years whose voices were
above the average. They are Madame
Chilson-Ohrman and dainty little Edith
Thayer, the leading lady in "The
Firefly," in which some of the music
approaches the grand opera demands
upon a singer.
It has always been something of a
mystery that in such a music-loving
community as Winston-Salem, chere
have been no more great singers to
delight the people.
Musicians and Conductors
Victor Herbert with his orchestra
and a number of eminent soloists, gave
two concerts in Salem College Memorial
Hall not very many years ago. Herbert
is in reality fat. Indeed, it is hard to
consider him the composer of such
songs as "I'm Falling in Love with
Someone", and similar songs heard in
his many musical comedies. He is,
however, an easy and graceful con-
ductor, as well as one of the most
popular composers of light music in the
Nation.
Sousa, the graceful, easy conductor,
has visited the city several times. He
always made the biggest hits with 'his
marches, which are widely known here
as elsewhere. However, he played a
tone poem, based on the history of
America at one time, -at was fearful.
Creatore, the freaky, has also visited
the city. The famous bandmaster in
later years has abandoned most of his
atheletic "stunts", but he is, un-
doubtedly, the . greatest bandmaster
that has ever app)eared here-^" His
ability to enthuse his musicians and
bring out the music in any number is
remarkable.
Opie Reade
Everyone remembers the charming
stories written by Opie Reade. He
lectured in the Y. M. C. A. gymnasium
quite a number of years ago. 1 do not
remember the subject of his address,
but will never forget a long talk with
him in the parlor at the Y. M. C. A.
That talk goes to show that the smell
of printers ink is appealing, for Opie
Reade has never ceased to be a news-
paper man, although he has won suc-
cess in fiction. He talks of "copy,"
and "pieing" a form, and "pigs," and
all the other things that are everyday
language to those who live among type.
Senator Kern
Senator Kern, at that time candidate
for vice-president of the United States,
visited this city in company with the
witty and popular Hon. J. Hamilton
Lewis, now Senator Lewis, during the
presidential campaign at that time, and
spoke at the courthouse in the morning
140
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
and at Piedmont Park at the Piedmont
Fair in the afternoon.
Senator Kern was interviewed just
as he stepped from the train, and he
seemed to. be impressed more with the
terrific din the whistles of the Twdn-
City were making than anything else,
for all of them were sounding their
notes of welcome. He was astonished
at the evidence of such industrial
prominence. Senator Lewis also spoke
in the afternoon at the fair ground.
William Torrey
Rev. Dr. William Torrey, at that
time deemed the greatest evangelist in
America since Moody, conducted a
meeting for three weeks in Brown's
warehouse. That was the last big
revival held in the Twin-City.
Thousands of people visited every
service, and Dr. Torrey made a pro-
found impression.
Or i of the most interesting features
of the meeting was one service held.
Sunday morning exclusively for the
colored people. Fully 5,000 colored
people were in attendance, and the
singing was the greatest ever heard in
Winston-Salem. Colored people were
secured to "line-out" the hymns, and
such singing was never heard here be-
fore.
"Gimme that Old-time Religion"
was rendered, and the voices of the
dusky singers could be heard for blocks.
Indeed, large numbers of people con-
gregated on the streets in the business
section to hear the singing.
Famous Actresses
The rise of the theatrical business in
Winston-Sale- n in recent years has been
the means of securing quite a number
of theatrical stars -in this city.
Possibly, the most popular actress
who has ever appeared here is Amelia
Bingham. She opened the Elks' Audi-
torium, and there is a bust of her in
one of the niches at that playhouse now.
She has appeared here several.- times,
the last time in "A Modern Lady
Godiva."
Other famous actresses who have
appeared here in recent years are:
Miss Viola Allen, who won fame in
Shakespearian roles, in F. Marion
Crawford's "The White Sister"; Hen-
rietta Grossman, who appeared in "The
Real Thing": Miss Margaret Anglin,
of "Great Divide" fame, who appeared
here in "Green Stockings"; and Viola
Suratt, famous for her mannerisms and
incidentally for her articles on manu-
facturing beauty, who appeared here
in a musical comedy. Edna Goodrich,
one of the former numerous Mrs. Nat
Goodwins, was a?&'o here while allied
to Nat, but her chief attraction was
her beauty. Her acting was poor.
i^Ldelaide Thurston, who has also ap-
peared here frequently, is a local
favorite.
Famous Actors
If Twin-City audiences were left to
determine the most popular actoi that
has ever visited the city, they w'ould
probably decide as follows: in drama,
James K. Hackett; in musical comedy,
DeWolf Hopper.
Hackett, unaoubtedly, is the finest
actor that has ever visited the Twin-
City. He appeared here first in a
romantic play entitled "The King's
Game", and later, about two years ago
in a dramatization of "A Grain of
Dust."
DeWolf Hopper has appeared here
several times, the last time in "The
Matinee Idol."
Nat Goodwin has appeared only once,
and ft that time in such a poor vehicle,
a pitiful melodrama, that people really
did not have an opportunity to get
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
141
much of an idea of his work. An
amusing incident occurred during his
visit here that the famous comedian
was at a loss to explain. In his lines
was a sentence stating that he was
going to Long Branch for a while. It
happens that there is a negro section in
this city known far and wide as "Long
Branch", and the colored gallery, think-
ing he was getting ofif a local hit, ten-
dered hirti an ovation, while he and
Miss Edna Goodrich looked on wonder-
ing wliat they had said or done to de-
serve such unexpected applause.
Dustin Farmun appeared here in a
dramatization of Booth Tarkington's
novel, "Cam.eo Kirby", and won many
friends. Jefferson de Angelis in "The
Beauty Spot" was also pleasing.
Many Others
A list of the others would be too long
but it would include also such noted
financiers as James B. Duke, Medill
McCormick of Chicago, and also Hon.
Eugene Debs, of Socialistic fame, who
spoke to a capacity auc'ence at the
Elks' Auditorium. A complete list
would also include manv others.
"The life of every man is a diary, in which he means to write -one story, and writes another ;
and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it."
142
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE SCOTCH IRISH IN NORTH
CAROLINA
(By E. M. H.)
'nr^HE migration of races is one of the
-'- most interesting studies of history.
It is also a powerful influence in the
intricate machinery of Providenc^^ ^'n
preventing the decay of the human race
by the infusion of new blood, and thus
keeping the unity of the race and its
manly purity and strength.
Let us go back to the time of Eliza-
beth and learn the origin of that grand,
historic race, the Scotch-Irish. This
elemicnt of our population was the out-
growth of a Scotch colony who migrated
from their native land and first settled
ir lorthern Ireland, where they became
identified with the Celtic race by inter-
marrying and adopting their habits and
customs.
They were influenced somewhat by
this association but there was still a
marked difference between them and
the native Irish. To distinguish them-
selves from the people of Scotland, their
children and succeeding generations
adopted the name they have today —
the Scotch-Irish. Perhaps these people
were the most enterprising of all the'
races who have migrated to the Old
North State. They were a combina-
tion of the warm blood of Ireland, with
the steadiness and tenacity of the
Scotch Covenanter. It combined Irish
wit, vivacity and impluse, with Scotch
sobriety and earnestness — a rare com-
bination of contradictory qualities, re-
sulting in a people who were mental
giants. This was a grand element in
our population.
The disposition of the Irish caused
their migration to the new land beyond
the sea, where broader fields, with less
restraint of the rigid rule of government,
invited them. They landed upon the
shores of Pennsylvania about the middle
of the seventeenth century and there
remained, for what they supposed, per-
manent settlement ; but the sober, grave
character of the Quakers did not suit
their active and energetic temperament,
so they sought for themselves a veritable
Utopia in the "land of the long leaf
pine", where lived the "freest of the
free", and where Irish blood could find
vent for its mirth and jollity; and the
perseverence of the Scotch congeniality.
From the North there came a great
number of Scotch-Irish, who settled in
the counties of Orange, Rowan, Meck-
lenburg, Guilford, Caswell, Lincoln,
Cabarrus, Iredell, Gaston and Alamance.
These are the principal counties of this
superior people, but it is probable that
they settled Duplin and others also.
Here they were planted by an all-wise
Providence to await the unfolding of a
great drama, in which they were to take
a most active part.
They brought with them their preach-
ers and their school-teachers, their
creeds and professions, and assumed the
right to support them as each society
of Christians thought best, ignoring the
laws of England or any of the provinces.
They were economical, thrifty and
charitable; brave and patriotic, gener-
ous and true in their friendships, loved
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
143
the truth and feared God. They be-
lieved in building churches and schools,
and regarded religion and education as
the chief concerns of life. They made
the mountain section of North Carolina
the garden of our State, and their
homes, the pride of every North Caro-
linian. No wonder then that they pro-
duced a stalwart people, and gave us
our greatest leaders in that crisis — our
struggle for independence.
They gave us the martyrs of Ala-
mance, whose patriotic blood was the
germ-seed of the Re-'/olution. They
gave us Mecklenburg's immortal Decla-
ration of Independence, whose first
bugle note of freedom still sounds in
the grateful ears of the patriotic " Down-
homers". They are giving us today a
Queen City in the nest of the hornets of
the Revolution, that will be the beacon
light of our whole nation, when New
York, Boston and Chicago have become
like Persepolis and Palmyra — the buried
cities of the plain.
But the greatest of all their gifts have
been their "high-minded men." They
gave us our Vance, our Alexanders and
Brevards, our Polks, our Grahams, our
Charles Duncan Mclver and many
other illustrious citizens.
-^
"The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning at seven;
The hillside's dew pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his heaven —
All's right with the world ! '
144
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE TIGHT- WAD
4^
(By C. L. Hinton)
IN A CONVERSATION with a friend
recently I remarked that the hardest
thing in this world to understand was a
human being; that you might live all
your life in the house with a person and
know little or nothing about that person.
We are just like islands in an archipelago,
so near each other but how thoroughly
separated. Husband and wife often
live together for many years keeping
secrets locked within themselves which
they dare not reveal to each other.
Seeing then how little we know about
those about us, even our nearest and
dearest, how careful we should be in
our judgments. Unless perfect our-
selves we should not pass judgment,
but the nearer we arrive at that blessed
state the less inclined are we to harshly
criticize the faults of our fellow beings.
"Yes" replied my friend, a reminis-
cent look coming into his expressive
countenance "you are right and that
recalls an experience of mine many
yeaxS ago, and if you have time to
listm I will tell you of it." I expressed
my willingness to hear, and striking
a lUatch and lighting his cigar he pro-
ceeded.
"It -was many years ago before the
advent of telephones, autos and all
those other improvements that con-
tribute to man's comfort. There were
four of us who used to go together
constantly when work was over, and
we generally met at the room of John
Seymour where we were free from
interruption, and could indulge in a
little game or drink a few glasses and
no one be the wiser. We drew good
salaries and spent our money freely, all
but Seymour, who was always careful
about how he parted with his coin, so
much so that we often rated him
soundly, and would have cut him alto-
gether but for the fact that he was a
really good fellow at heart, and we
couldn't help from liking him. ' I al-
ways had a contempt for a stingy,
parsimonious, counting kind of a per-
son and this attitude of my friend
worried me and I often called him
tight wad, and told him he ought to
loosen up, which he took good naturedly.
The winter of was an unusually
severe one: rain sleet and snow held
sway until the streets were a veritable
quagmire, making it difihcult for pedes-
trians to cross. My friend was collector
for a big railroad, and necessarily had
to expose himself to all sorts of weather.
We were all very busy about this
time, working late at night, and did
not see any thing of each other for
several days. When we did meet at
Seymour's room we were surprised to
find him in bed, his' cheeks flushed, eyes
shining and hands hot as though he
had a high fever. I saw he was a sick
man, and needed medical aid, so quietly
slipped out and summoned a doctor.
After examining his patient with a
grave face he led me off and said;
"Your friend is desperately ill, and
should have had attention sooner. He
has pneumonia, and must have a nurse
at once."
I will not go through all the harrow-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
145
ing details of his sickness, finally ending
in his death. It all stands our clear and
distinct to me today as though it hap-
pened yesterday. His mother, a sweet
little body was summoned, and never
left his side until the end, bearing up
wonderfully, but afterwards giving way
to the most heart rending grief, which
was painful to witness.
I afterwards learned that all the time
I had been accusing him of being such
a tight-wad he had been supporting
this widowed mother and five helpless
little children. You can't imagine how
badly I felt when I heard this, and how
I reproached myself for judging him
wrongfully. I promised m.yself that I
would be very careful in future how I
would judge my fellows. After that we
gave up playing cards and drinking and
tried hard to'lead a better life."
^
x\ gust of birdsong, a patter of dew,
A cloud, and a rainbow's warning,
Suddenly sunshine, and perfect blue —
An April day in the morning.
— Harriet Prescott Stafford.
146
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
FORSYTH COUNTY, NORTH
CAROLINA
(Contributed)
FORSYTH comes in for considera-
tion in this issue of Sky-Land
because its courthouse is located in
Winston-Salem. The county is situ-
ated in the northwestern part of the
State. It has an area of 253,440 acres,
or 396 square miles. Lying within fifty
miles of the principal range of the Blue
Ridge mountains, it has an elevation
ranging between 750 and 1,000 feet and
a surface that is hilly, with a tendency
toward the rolling. The climate is mild
and healthful, the county being pro-
tected from the extreme winter cold of
the middle west by the Blue Ridge
range and rendered delightful by its
breezes during the summer months.
Ils drainage is well established, the
greater part of the county being drained
by the Yadkin river and its numerous
tributaries.
The first settlement was made in 1753.
For some years prior to that time,
venturesome pioneers had forged their
ways into the forests and were living
isolated existences. But the first per
manent settlement was made on
Saturday, November 17, 1753, at
Bethabara, now known as Old Town, by
a party of Germans. They were
Moravians, and that was the beginning
in this region of that splended people
whose qualities have been so large a
factor in the development of this
section.
Forsyth county was organized in
1849, from Stokes. It has a population
of upwards of 52,000. The county seat
and principal city is Winston-Salem,
which, including the suburbs, has a
population in escess of 37,000. The
second largest town is Kernersville, with
a population of more than 1,000.
Smaller towns and villages abound.
Forsyth is in no material sense a
one-sided county. The manufacturing
and agricultural interests are well bal-
anced.
The soils of the county, being residual
and alluvial, are well suited to farming.
And the annual rain fall of 46 inches is
ample for the production of a great
variety of crops. Tobacco, corn, wheat,
oats and clover are the principal pro-
ducts. And crops of secondary im-
portance, grown for home use mainly,
are sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, cab-
bage, cowpeas, rye, sorghum, water-
melons, canteloupes, and all kinds of
garden vegetables. The average size of
the farms of the county is about 84
acres. Farm labor is comparatively
scarce; and about three-fourths of the
farms are cultivated by the owners.
Winston-Salem is the center of the
manufacturing activities of the county,
although there are industries of various
kinds at Kernersville and other towns.
The manufacture of tobacco and cotton
goods leads other industries, of which
there are about thirty. It is estimated
that about one-half of the population of
the county is engaged in its manufactur-
ing interests. And the pay-rolls in
Winston-Salem alone approximate
S6, 000,000 annually.
Ample transportation facilities obtain
in all parts of the county. Three com-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
147
panics operate trains in its borders over
83.64 miles of track, affording adequate
and convenient freight and passenger
service.
And a veritable network of public
highways makes intercommunication of
the several sections easy. More than
800 miles of public roads are in use.
One hundred and fifty miles of this
roadway have been improved, sand clay
and macadam being the types con-
structed. In 1914 about 30. miles were
built, and there are now three convict
and five contract forces building roads
in the county and constructing two
mammoth steel bridges over the Yad-
kin river, connecting Forsyth and Davie
and Forsyth and Yadkin counties, two
adjoining counties, whose logical market
is Winston-Salem. The county has an
annual road revenue of about $80,000
from its taxes.
Thousands of telephone wires also aid
in rendering the county one vast com-
munity. In Winston-Salem and vi-
cinity alone there are 2,700 telephones
in operation. And from this city as a
center the wires of the Bell Telephone
Company ramify to the remotest corners
of the county, in which there are more
than 3,700 telephones in use.
In point of educational endeavor,
Forsyth is one of the most progressive
counties of the State. It was one of the
first to adopt the six months' school
term, and is one of the ten counties in
the State that do not receive aid from
the State equalization fund in main-
taining a six months' school.
The rural census, which includes all
the county except Winston-Salem and
Kernersville, shows a school population
of 9,604—8,039 white and 1,565 colored.
For this population the county provides
107 schools — 83 white and 24 colored;
and 158 teachers — 130 white and 28
colored. The average salary of the
white teachers is $40 per month and
that of the colored teachers $32.14.
In addition to the county schools,
other educational institutions in the
county are: Salem College, Clemmons
School, the Methodist Children's Home,
and the Slater State Normal (colored)
School.
Splendid work is also being done
throughout the county in general by the
county board of health in sanitary and
hygienic instruction through its capable
and efificient whole-time health officer.
Dr. E. F. Strickland. Another influence
making for the improvement of rural
life and conditions in the county is the
work of county Demonstrator Bruce
Anderson, whose efforts with the farm-
ers and their sons have met with signal
success.
Forsyth's population is of the most
desirable type. A hardier, sturdier,
more resourceful and purposeful people
is not to be found in any county of the
State. The industrial element is only
one generation old; and the industrial
type cannot as yet be said to have
developed. In the rural districts the
families are largely freeholders. This
being so, they are that independent,
solid people found only where men own
the soil that feeds them.
Forsyth too, is a busy county. There
are many men of wealth in it, but few
of leisure. The joy of accumulating
has not yet subsided, and the families
are not old enough to show, except in
rare instances, even faint indications of
decadence. The sun is just rising over
Forsyth; and the trend of the county is
upward in matters of health, wealth and
intelligence.
148
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS
(By Octavus Roy Cohen)
TD ARROW gazed about in bewilder-
-'--' ment. In front, the land sloped
sharply away, and through the trees he
could see the tops of those lower down
the mountainside, while across the val-
ley they rose again in a green wall of
pine and fir. Behind him was a vista
of brown trunks and shaggy under-
growth.
His walking trousers were torn, his
shoes cut by the rocks, and his feet were
sore. For hours he had been walking,
following what appeared to be a trail
back to Cordesville, and for the first
time he admitted that he was lost.
The North Carolina sun was disappear-
ing over the brow of a whiskered crag
to the westward, and with the coming
of darkness a vague sense of fear haunted
him; it was all so new, so strange, and
he felt lonely, deserted, helpless.
He cursed the city editor who had
sent him on this dangerous assiignment,
he cursed himself for lagging behind the
heavily armed posse, and the terror of
the rolling ranges, rising tier upon tier
in awesome grandeur, grew strong in
him. He wondered what the staff would
say could they see him as he was; he
wondered if they would still envy him
the star assignment — the trip with the
sheriff's posse through the North Caro-
lina mountains after Fate Williams the
outlaw who had brutally killed the
former sheriff and two of his deputies
while they chased him through the
mountains. But this Williams was a
man with a price, he was worth five
thousand dollars, dead or alive; and
Barrow's paper needed feature stuff,
and they had sent him down to get it:
Fate Williams was a picturesque char-
acter, they said.
Barrow had gloated over the less
fortunate members of the staff, and had
smoked big black cigars with self-satis-
faction during the trip on the Pullman.
He was a perfect city type, knowing
nothing of hardship; and the nerve-
trying chase with its attendant dis-
comforts had sickened him. That day
his spirit had broken, and he had lagged
behind and been lost. Unversed in the
way of the woods, he could not follow
the hauling way down the mountain
to the road which led back to Cordes-
ville; now, for the first time, he regretted
his theatrical act in refusing the long
revolver which had been tendered him
by the new sheriff when the man-hunt
started.
"I'm a newspaper man." he had told
them airily; "I'm going with you to
write — not to fight."
He crashed aimlessly through the
dense undergrowth as the darkness
settled swiftly about him; and then he
stumbled on a little clearing in the
middle of which stood a ramshackle
log-and-mud cabin, a reminder of the
early-settler days, a picture of the
primitiveness of the mountaineers of
today. He approached cautiously and
knocked t'midly on the rude, hingeless
door. There was no answer and he
ventured in. The place was deserted,
and even his city-trained mind could
tell by the general musty atmosphere of
decay and neglect that it had not been
occupied for ^vars. Welcoming the
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
149
little shelter it afforded, he ate the
tiny store of lunch remaining in, his
dainty haversack, and, exhausted,
dropped ofi into a restless slumber on
the dirty log floor.
He lay far in the corner in the shadow
of a pile of wood which evidently had
been left in the place by its last occu-
pant, and the pale moonlight which
streamed valiantly in through the door-
way and the one rude window did not
disturb his slumbers.
Just how long he slept he did not
know. He knew that even as he re-
turned to consciousness, he felt that he
must not move; must not make a
sound. He was obessed by that in-
tangible thing which warns the awaken-
ing person that he is not alone. In-
stinctively he waked himself thoroughly
without stirring, a nameless fear grip-
ping him.
He raised his head carefully above
the level of the w^oodpile, hoping against
hope that it was a case of his own
overwrought nerves; but there, stand-
ing near the window, was a tall, gaunt
man; grizzled, bearded, fully armed.
As Barrow watched the man shambled
to the doorway and stood motionless,
looking into the night. He had rested
his sawed-off shotgun against the win-
dow ledge some ten feet away, but kis
belt still held an ugly revolver and a
long clasp knife.
The reporter, cowering in the corner,
scarcely dared to breathe; he felt nau-
seated. Barrow recognized this man as
Fate Williams and the cold sweat of
abject fear broke out on him.
He knew that discovery was in-
evitable, and it was evident that the
outlaw still thought himself alone and
intended to spend the night in the cabin.
Barrow realized that things would not
go well with him; of the fact that the
nocturnal visitor was Fate Williams,
he was certain.
Some men are naturally cow^ards;
others are given bravery as a birthright.
Barrow was of the former class, but
there is no man more dangerous than a
coward cornered ; cornered in a place
where he has to fight for his life. Where
his very existence depends on his wits
and nerve, the coward is the Tartar, not
the naturally brave man; the coward
becomes frenzied or deadly calm as the
occasion demands — the brave man simp-
ly hits the right course by calm courage.
Barrow thought rapidly and coher-
ently. The very realization of the
danger he faced in that little mountain
cabin, gave him a steadiness that sur-
prised him vaguely. He wondered why
he was not afraid. Knowing that everj^
second counted, he acted promptly and
desicively.
"Hands up!"
His voice rang steadily, command-
ingly, distinctly on the ears of the man
by the door, and the command was not
one which, in that section, invited aught
but instant action. The command and
the throwing up of the hands are reilex;
one follows the other as night follows
day in sections where gunplay is still
in vogue; and the mail who does aot
throw up his hands instantly knows
that he signs his own death M^arrant by
the delay of a second.
Williams's hands went up mechani-
cally; straight, rigid, appealing; out-
lined in silhouette in the frame of the
doorway. He looked sharply at the
corner from whence the clear, de-
termined, masterful voice had come,
but could see nothing. Barrow caught
the bewilderment in his look, and
exulted.
"No tricky work," he called sharply,
"Or I'll shoot to kill! I've got you
covered!"
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
The mountaineer vainly tried to
pierce the inky blackness of the corner
with his keen eyes.
"Turn your back!" The command
was like the crack of a whip.
The man hesitated.
"Quick! Or, By God, I'll—"
The outlaw turned.
"Now, turn to one side — yes, that's
the way; just so your gun hip is near
me. When I give the word, let your
hand fall gently to the butt of that re-
volver and pull it out by the thumb and
first finger. Mind, if I see one of your
other fingers so much as even acciden-
tally touch the butt, you'll be a dead
man! Understand?"
Fate Williams nodded. In the corner
the callow, crouching reporter was sur-
prisingly calm; it was as though he was
rehearsing private theatricals.
"I'm watching you," he warned, as
the hairy hand descended slowly, fear-
fully: "Just one little false move, and
>ou're gone!"
The gunman does not like to be shot
down without a chance for his life; a
fighting chance. Fate Williams itched
to fire once, just once; but he knew that
the tones which came to him from the
blackness of the corner were the tones
of a man, a man who knew how to
shoot; and he realized that before he
could whip his revolver straight, aim
and then fire, he would be dead; he
knew that he made an ideal target and
he saw that he could only fire into the
corner at a chance — very probably
missing the man altogether.
"Easy now! Careful!"
The man drew the revolver with his
thumb and forefinger; handling it gin-
gerly. One clutch of the trigger, a
flash, and then — but he decided against
the suicidal course.
"Drop it!"
For the fraction of a second William^
hesitated, and Barrow could hear the
uneven pounding of his own heart.
The strain was racking, even his muscles
were tensed painfully.
"Drop it!" The tone was fraught
with danger, and the outlaw's gun
clattered to the floor.
"Now," commanded Barrow, "You
can judge from my voice about where
I am. Kick it over this way — and no
tricks."
A huge foot reached out and the re-
volver came spinning over the floor
into Barrow's hands. His fingers closed
around the butt of the revolver caress-
ingly; and for the first time he felt
womanish; he experienced an almost un-
controllable desire to cry, to blubber
like a baby.
"Stand where you are," he ordered.
With the revolver in plain sight cover-
ing the outlaw, the stripling circled the
room as he had seen the heroes in the
moving picture plays do it, and he
reached the sawed-off shotgun. The
feel of the cold barrel filled him with a
wild, primitive exulatation.
"Now," he said, "You march —
straight to Cordesville. And the first
time you made a suspicious move,
why — " his pause was eloquent.
Cordesville was just awakening when
the strange pair entered the town and
walked down the Main street to the
jail. Old Sam Harding, postmaster,
stared and the captive attempted to
hail him. But the lithe young news-
paper man tensed his arm and his
staccato tones called a halt on conver-
sation :
"Shut up! " he yelped. "No talkin'."
Thus it had been all the way in from the
cabin; Barrow had kept Williams in
utter silence, permitting not a word, and
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
151
smiling benignly at the fellow's low-
voiced tirade of curses.
They reached the jail and turned in.
The chief jailor took his feet down from
the desk-top and he, too stared.
"Here," said Barrow with attempted
calm: " Here is Fate Williams."
The other stared.
"For Gawd's sake, "he said slowly,
and then again "Well, f'r Gawd's sake!"
"What's the matter," snapped Bar-
row, "Why don't you put Williams in a
cell?"
"Williams!" chortled the jailer, "Wil-
liams; why you dum fool that ain't
Williams, that's Seth Gavigan, one of
the deputies: the posse got Williams
last night. This morning's papers is
full of it."
H^ ^
A DETERMINED MATCHMAKER
•«•
(By Lettie King Beeker)
'LL try to give Callie the medicine
jest like you say. Doctor."
"I will write the instructions for you,
Mrs. Holly."
"Law, Doctor, 'twouldn't do a mite
o' good, fer I can't read writin' nor
write nuther an' I'll tel you why I
never learned. In my gal days I heerd
tell of a man being put in the pen-
itentiary jest fer writin' another man's
name an ' I made up my mind right
then an' thar that I wouldn't larn
nothin ' that could git me into so much
trouble. If I didn't know how to write
they couldn't 'cuse me of writin' no-
body's name. Word o' mouth's the
thing to do bizness with anyhow. I
larned to read printin I 'lowed thar
warn't no harm in that. My eyesight's
gittin' so bad I can't read much but
my Pink-on-the-Island reads to me."
"Who is she?" inquired Dr. Ran-
dolph.
"You ain't been in this town long but
'pears to me long enuff fer a sensible
man like you to tell that Julia Gray's
the purtiest gal in these parts. She's
rich, too, but she's jest as familiar as if
she warn't wuth a dollar. Now thar's
Eleanor Hastings, she's the proudest
thing you ever seed; she ^sweeps by
here like a whirlwind, dressed in si' c
from head to toe. She's my cousin but
you'll never find it out from her. She's
got no cause to be stuck up. Jest 'cause
she's Col. Jake Hastingses' great-great-
grandarter ain't no sign she's better'n
Col. John Hastingses' grandarter an'
that's me. I ain't nothin' now but I
used to be sump'n. My granpaw drunk
up all his money an' lef his chillun
pore an' needy." She was launched on
her favorite subject and was disap-
pointed when she saw the doctor rise
to leave.
"I cannot call on your daughter to-
morrow," he said, "as I have to take
a patient to the hospital in Danville."
"Gwine to ride on the cars?"
"Why, yes, it is nearly thirty miles,
you know."
"I don't keer if it's a hundred, I'd
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
ruther walk than ride on that horse
that goes cavortin ' thro ' the country
so fast you can't count the mile-posts.
I tell you it's a dangerous nag. I
ain't never rid on it yet an' I never
'spect to as long's my name's Nancy
Holly. Like as not you'll come back
dead an' I've done sot my heart on
yer marryin' the Pink-on-the-Island."
Mrs. Holly watched in vain for her
"Pink" that day but she came the
next moniing.
"How is Mrs. Cooper?" Julia in-
quired.
"Oh, Callie's jest as no 'count as
usual, alius a-gruntin'. She ain't half
as spry as me an ' me a-gwine on seventy-
nine. I knowed you'd come soon as
you heard Callie was porely, money
ain't made no fool o' you like it has o'
Eleanor Hastings. She has more
switches to her coat-tail than airy horse
I ever seed. Men air such quare crit-
ters 'twould be jest like that new
doctor to go an' git in love with her an '
I've done picked him out fer you. He'd
be the purtiest man I ever seed if he
jest had a good head o' har. I don't
blame him not to war a mustache to
cover up them shiny teeth o' his'n,
they're the purtiest I ever seed 'cep'
Callie's new ones she got from the
tooth-dentist. He kind o' puts me in
mind o' my fust husban'. He was
pore an' I had to work hard but he
was so purty I didn't mind. My secon'
husban' was rich so I had a easy time
durin' his lifetime so far as work went.
He clerked in a store an' I didn't have
nothin ' much to do but card an ' spin
an' follow the plow an' milk seven
cows. But he was old an ' cross, it
'pears like thar's sump'n lackin' to all
of 'em so I wouldn't stan' back long,
if I was you, for a few hars more or
less on the top of a man's head fer I
tell you you ain't a-gwine to find per-
fection nowhar."
"I believe you are right," Julia agreed
laughingly.
"I might' nigh forgot to tell you that
Major Blair is gwine to try to git the
county to grant me a penyon. If any-
body ought to have one, I'm that pus-
son fer I jest same as lost two husbans
in the war; sounds like a I was Mormon,
don't it? But I didn't have two to
once. My fust husban ' killed hisself
eatin' inguns soon atter the war com-
menced. The soljers was mos' starved
so they et as many wild inguns as they
could hold. My husban' an' another
soljer died an' the whole passel of 'em
come might' nigh dying. Atterwhile
Mr. Holly come home on a furlong an '
he kep' pesterin' me till I married him
to git ahed o' him. He went back to
the war an' got shot an' tho' he warn't
killed, he might jest as well been fer he
warn't never no 'count no more an'
that cross thar warn't no livin' in peace
with him. My fust husban' was as
good a Christian as ever went to the
ground. I ain't never jined the church
myself, somehow I jest can't give up
my pastimes."
She followed Julia to the door as
she was leaving and called after her^
"Honey, be sho' you don't let none o'
them designin ' gals ketch the doctor.
He's comin' to see you soon, he's done
promised me he would."
Several weeks passed and Dr. Ran-
dolph had not made that promised call
on Julia so Mrs. Holly grew desperate.
"Callie," she said, "you wouldn't be
skeered if I was to send fer the doctor,
would you?"
"Law! what ails you, Ma?"
"I ain't got nary ache nor pain but I
jest 'lowed I'd let the doctor 'zamine
me. But I tell you I ain't a-gwine to
have no doctor 'cep' that purty new un."
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
153
As soon as Callie was out of sight
Mrs. Holly sent a neighbor's child post-
haste for Julia, then just did have time
to crawl into bed and assume a very
"die-away'"' expression before Callie
and the doctor arrived for love had
lent wings to Callie's rheumatic feet.
"I ain't got no teeth to spar cheviin'
up glass," she said when she saw the
thermometer. She refused to tell her
symptoms or to let the doctor see her
tongue. Her pulse was regular so he
prescribed some harmless pills until
there should be further developments.
"Miss Julia warn't to home," said
the little girl peeping in at the door,
"but her cousin, Miss Elsie Cameron,
is comin'."
"She won't do," growled Mrs. Holly.
"Why, Ma, have you done forgot
how kind she's been?" asked Callie.
"Oh, Elsie's a well-meanin' gal but
she ain't. Julia."
"But she's jest as — "
Just then Elsie tapped at the door.
"I am so sorry you are sick," she said.
"Julia had gone driving — ■-"
"With that wuthless Carey Ander-
son I'll be bound." Hereupon Mrs.
Holly sprang out of bed. "Doctor,
here's },'er pills, I've done got well
without 'em so you needn't charge me
nothin'."
"Mrs. Holly didn't I hear you boast-
ing onl}^ yesterday that you had never
had to pay a doctor's bill in your life?"
quired Elsie.
"An' I ain't had to pay one yit,"
and Mrs. Holly joined in the laugh.
"For the life o' me I can't understand
it," sighed Callie, "all I could git
out'n her was that she wanted to see
the doctor."
"I believe she has designs on the
doctor."
"O, go way, Miss Elsie, you shorel}'
don't think I'm after gittin ' a third
husban'."
"I heard recently of a marriage in
which the bride was seventy and
possessed only one tooth while the
groom was only twenty-five."
"An' didn't have but one har on his
head?" asked Mrs. Holly with such a
comical glance at the doctor's slightly
bald head that Elsie and the doctor
both laughed merrily. "Law, Dr. Ran-
dolph, you'll think I ain't got no man-
ners tall. I forgot to make you 'quaint
ners 'tall, I forgot to make you
'quainted with Miss Elsie Cameron —
she's Miss Julia Gray's cousin."
"You see. Dr. Randolph, I shine
only with a reflected glory in the firm-
ament of Mrs. Holly's thought.''
" Now, Miss Elsie, don't you be gittin'
jealous. You know I set a lot o' store
by you an' Callie jest dotes on you."
Elsie did not linger long but the
doctor remained nearly an hour and
Mrs. Holly could see he was still puzzled
over her attack She chuckled inwardly
and resolved not to throw any light
rn the subject. "You cured me so
quick, I'll send for you next time I
have a spell," she said as he was leaving.
"I may not come, you fooled me so
this time."
"You better come, it mout be wuth
a fortune to you," then her indignation
overcame her caution, " 'twould 've been
this time if it hadn't been fer that wuth-
less Carey Anderson." She saw in a
moment by the light that flashed over
his face that she had betrayed her
secret.
"I belie\e I have diagnosed your
case at last," and he laughed heartily.
"Don't you go to s'picionin' nothin'
fer you're jest as like to be wrofig as
right but you'd better drap everything
an' come when I send fer you."
It was shorth' after twelve o'clock
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the next day when the doctor stopped
at Mrs. Holly's and found her bustling
about in her usual brisk manner.
"I dropped in to see if my diagnosis
was correct," he laughingly explained.
"I'm rale glad you come so's you can
tell Callie that nothing ails me. She
won't let me he'p her none to-day,
she's afeard I'll have 'nother spell like
I did yistiddy."
"Don't you worry over her, Mrs.
Cooper, she was just possuming."
"AH I've got to say is it took a
powerful sight o' studyin' fer you to
find out."
" I admit I didn't suspect such schem-
ing in one of your age."
"No reflections on my age, now.
I'm thankful to say I ain't got old
enuff to git bald-headed yit."
"Don't you know what happened to
the children in the Bible for making fun
of a bald head?"
"Yes, but you ain't a prophet."
"I see I shall have to let you have
the last word so I might as well go."
"You'd jest as well set an' talk a
bpell an' I'll stop pokin' fun at bald
heads."
"Thank you, but I have an important
engagement at one o'clock."
As he opened the door he saw Elsie
coming up the walk with a dainty
lunch-basket on her arm. "Did that
wonderful 'faith-cure' outlast the
night?" she called merrily.
"Come and see for yourself, the re-
sults of my skill," he replied in the same
vein.
"She's gone and brung me sump'n
nice to eat. I jest know the doctor
wishes he didn't have no 'portant en-
gagement," chuckled Mrs. Holly.
"It was only with my landlady; I
might cancel it if you would divide
your lunch with me."
"You needn't be hangin ' 'round here
to see Miss Elsie, 'case she's done spoke
fer. Major Blair's done picked her out
fer his secon' wife."
" Little good it will do him, I wouldn't
have an old widower," pouted Elsie.
"Old widowers will look better to
you ten years from now than they do
now fer men air sorter skase in this
part o' the country."
"I'd much rather be a nice jolly old
maid than to take an old widower,"
Elsie interposed.
"I disremember ever seein' a rale
jolly old maid, they mostly has a cross,
disappointed look. I'm sho' you can't
find a politer gentleman nowhere than
the Major. I alius will think kind o'
him case he got the country to grant
me a penyon fer my two husbans."
When Elsie rose to leave the doctor
rose also. , "I b'lieve the doctor'd done
forgot 'bout his 'portant engagement,'
said Mrs. Holly slyly.
"Now, Miss Cameron, I know you
will have to forgive Mrs. Holly for her
seeming preference for Miss Gray since
she has hinted delicately that your
charms are so great that you can even
make a man forget his luncheon hour."
"If she thinks I can accomplish so
wonderful a feat I shall have to forgive
her tardy recognition of my charms."
After they had gone off together Mrs.
Holly sat in a brown study for a few
moments, then said with a sigh : ' 'Look
here, Callie, this won't do. Sum'n's got
to be done an ' done quick or my
Pink's a-gwine to lose her chanst at the
doctor. I can see he's 'bout to git
int'rested in Elsie."
"If I was you, Ma, I'd let things be
an' mos' likely they'll come out right.
Looks like workin' agin Providence to
try to keep them two apart."
"When you've lived long as me, Cal- j
lie, you'll larn that things don't come ;
right by lettin ' 'em be an ' sometimes
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
155
folks has to help Providence out a
leetle."
"I don't know two Who'd suit better'n
the doctor an' Elsie, they's got so much
fun 'bout 'em."
"Thar's a leetle too much foolish-
ness 'bout Elsie. Now Julia's got a
dignifieder manner that'd jest suit fer a
doctor's wife."
"I b'lieve you. think she'd suit fer
the President's wife."
"I think she'd suit to be Queen o'
England," and she took down her bon-
net to go and look at her flower-beds.
Not many days later Mrs. Holly saw
the doctor driving past and beckoned
frantically for him to stop. "Ain't yer
got time to come in? She's here," she
called.
"Did she bring you another nice
basket?" he inquired as he was tying
his horse.
"Yes, she alius brings me sump'n
nice."
"Oh, Miss Cameron," he called
through the open doorway, "I believe
you are trying to bribe the witness."
" 'Tain't Miss Cameron; did you
think Elsie was the only 'she' in the
world? Let me make you 'quainted
with Miss Julia Gray, Dr. Randolph,"
and she pulled the reluctant Julia to the
door, for she was determined not to
let this opportunity pass for bringing
her two favorites together. She saw
his first look of disappointment fade
into an admiration that satisfied even
her match-making soul. "Ain't she a
pink?" she inquired in a very audible
aside.
"Miss Gray, how did you manage to
get into her good graces?"
"I was wondering the same about
you. She sings your praises constantly,
I am positively jealous."
Mrs. Holly had the satisfaction of
seeing Julia drive ofT in "that purty
buggy that shines same as a lookin '-
glass. She watched them out of sight,
then turned to Callie with a sigh of
relief and satisfaction :
"If that ain't a match. I miss my
guess. I never seed the doctor lose his
head afore, he couldn't take his eyes
ofT'n her an' you see he took her home
in his buggy. You 'member he didn't
take Elsie home fust time he got
'quainted with her."
For four successive days the doctor
called at Mrs. Holly's; although he
did not find either girl there, she placed
her own construction on these visits
and was elated. "I knowed jest how
'twould be," with a wise shake of hei
head. When Callie timidly suggested
that he might be coming to see Elsie,
Mrs. Holly turned upon her with
withering scorn: "Ain't yer got no
sense, Callie? Don't yer know he don't
keer nothin' fer her? He jest goes with
her fer gentlemanly accommodat'on.
I tell yer I'm a jedge o' human n itur
an ' mark my words the doctor's a-gvnne
to marry Julia if he can git her."
The next time he called Mrs. Holly
said: "Doctor, I hope you ain't
chargin' all these visits agin me, you'd
break me. I'm powerful glad fer you
to come but 'pears to me you're wastin '
a lot o ' vallable time by not goin '
direct to headquarters 'stid o' settin '
up to me."
"That's what I have been thinking
but 'A burnt child dreads the fire.'"
"When'd you git burnt?"
"Several years ago. I resolved then
never to trust another of the false sex.
She married a rich old man."
"I don't doubt you'll live to be
thankful he got her. An' tain't fair
to charge her sins agin the innercent
gals in this town."
Meeting Mrs. Holly on the street one
day, Dr. Randolph offered to take her
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
home in his buggy. As usual JuHa was
the topic of conversation. "JuHa sho'
is a prize," she said, "thar ain't nobody
Hke her. I b'Heve atter the Lord made
her he broke up the pattern."
"I beHeve you are right," laughingly
agreed the doctor.
"Julia'd make any man a wife he
could be proud of. Now Elsie's a jolly
gal an' rale kind but she's a leetle mite
too cold. Why if her husban' was to
come an' ask her to kiss him, she'd
say: 'O, go 'way! I kissed you las'
week."
"That would be hard on him," he
laughed.
"I've got a leetle bizness 'round at
Missus Gray's, so I'll jest git you to
"irive me by thar," said this determined
matchmaker.
"I shall be delighted."
She called Julia to entertain the
doctor on the veranda while she talked
to Mrs. Gray about that "leetle biz-
ness" that she had invented on the
spur of the moment. An hour later
she peeped out and seeing he was so
engrossed she slipped out the back way
without disturbing them.
The very next day he came around
and laughingly demanded an explana-
tion.
"You all seemed to be havin 'sech a
good time, I hadn't the heart to disturb
you. Now, I jest want you to own up,
warn't it 'long erbout night afore you
remembered you'd took me thar with
you? Oh, I know young people."
"You are trying to get me into
trouble, Mrs. Holly."
"I jest thought I'd break the ice fer
you."
The ice being broken, the doctor
delighted Mrs. Holly by calling often
at Mrs. Gray's but she was much
troubled to hear that he also called on
Elsie and several other girls. As faith-
fulh' as a thermometer records every
slight change of temperature did Mrs.
Holly show by the rise and fall of her
spirits every seeming change in the
course of this love affair, on the con-
summation of which she had set her
heart. In spite of her schemes and
manoeuvres things did not move with
the rapidity she had hoped. Her best-
laid plans "gang aft agley" but a year
after her feigned illness the doctor
brought joy to her heart by telling her
of his engagement.
I knowed jest how 'twould end but
it's strange she ain't been over to tell
me 'bout it herself."
"She's here for that very purpose
now," said a merry voice.
"You!" cried- Mrs. Holly aghast.
"Why I thought he meant Julia."
"I am sorry to disappoint you; I,
too, think Julia would have suited him
better."
"You'll keep him in good sperits all
the time," said she kindh^ trying to
hide her keen disappointment.
As they were lea\ang he slipped a
twenty dollar gold piece into Mrs.
Holly's hand and whispered: "To pay
you for that first call."
"It's 'most like takin ' money under
false pretences, fer I didn't ha\"e no
idee o" makin' this match."
She watched the two out of sight, then
ran over to tell Julia the bad news. She
looked so doleful that JuHa thought
Callie must be dead and was much
relieved to learn that the terrible
calamity was only Dr. Randolph's en-
gagement.
"Elsie's a rale sweet gal but they
don't match up like you an' him.
But, honey, don't \'OU grieve atter him
fer he didn't ha^•e no good head o'
har, nohow."
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A MYSTERIOUS STRAD
(By Roy LeGrand)
T3 ESPECT for the dead has long
-*-^ deterred me from giving this story
to the pubHc, but I am convinced that
in the interest of science and humanity
it ought to be pubhshed. So I am
giving out the facts; but I shall have
to ask to be pardoned for the omission
of names, places and dates as the story
concerns the late Mr. K , a famous
violin virtuoso, an English house of
nobility and a celebrated Stradivarius
violin. It was related to my be the
late virtuoso during the course of an
evening spent with him shortly before
his death.
Mr. K- M^as, in addition to being
a musical genius, a man of great mental
powers and of profound learning, es-
pecially in the field of psychology.
During the last few years of his life he
left ofi almost altogether the long hours
of practice, which he had been accus-
tomed to put on his repertoires, and
devoted most of his time and energy
to psychical research along the border-
line of existence. And it was out of
his experiments in this line together
with his passion for music that this
story grew.
"Do you remember," said he, "the
visit we made to the castle of Lord B
about seven years ago to try a cele-
brated Stradivarius violin belonging to
him?"
"Quite well," I replied. "That in-
strument was an excellent counterfeit,
but all the greater fraud for so being."
"No, you are wrong," he went on.
"It is a genuine Stradivarius violin. I
have since taken the pains to trace
carefully its history. It was beyond
doubt made by Stradivarius, was the
instrument of the great Paginini and
was last used by the celebrated French
virtuoso, M. Lone."
"But my dear sir," I objected, "you
forget your disappointment and the
chagrin you experienced at being unable
to keep on the key when you attempted
to play it. It certainly had a tone of
marvelous sweetness and power, but
it did not note true in all positions and
keys. And it seems incredible to me
that such a violin should have been
the favorite instrument of so great a
master as Paginini or even of the cele-
brated M. Lone, who is said to have
been its last owner prior to its having
come into the possession of the House
of B ."
"I remember, I .remember," my
friend replied in an absentminded way
and after a slight pause continued :
"The change you saw in me was
neither disappointment nor chagrin over
being unable to perform on the instru-
ment. The traditions gathered around
the instrument made it sacred in the
eyes of the owner and he discounted
my ability as a musician when I failed
to perform on it, I know; but that
thought was not present to me then.
The change in me resulted from the
consciousness that I was in the presence
of and that I was tampering with a
terrible and a refractory presence. Why
was it that certain keys could be
executed with an ease, a richness and a
power of tone that I had never known
l)efore. while certain other kevs were
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absolutely unplayable? There was
something uncanny about it, the horror
of an unseen presence antagonizing me!
"You must know that the musician
differs from all other artists in that he
has to do with the unseen and the
untangable. His instrument is nothing.
It is merely a device which he employs
in gathering in from the unseen world
its multitudinous voices and in arrang-
ing them according to his fancy. He
is never disturbed over failure to gather
in any desired voice, for that clearly is
due to a defect in the instrument. But
once he has gathered in all the voices
and is master of the technique of his
instrument, the inability to marshall
and arrange them according to his fancy
.5 gives birth to a terrible fear in his
heart and his soul shrinks from an
unseen, uncanny presence.
"Just such an experience I had with
this violin. Every tone within its scope
I gathered in from the air, for the in-
strument noted perfectly. And in
several keys the misterious voices that
it had gathered up within its being
yielded themselves to my most fantastic
fancy with a sweetness and a power
that I had never known. Then sud-
denly, in another key. and another, I
found that they would not submit to
me! Horror! What terrible presences,
what rebellious spirits were gathering
about that violin!
"The mystery of the thing annoyed
me for more than three years. Then
accidentally I stumbled upon a clue
which eventually led me to a complete
explanation of the mystery. Through
sheer curiosity I was led to seek a
sitting with a medium in one of the
Western States. The possibility of
fraud in such experiments had made it
impossible for me to attach any im-
portance to their results. But a sur-
prise was coming to me.
"The sitting was granted immediately
upon request; and the medium, who
could have had no information con-
cerning me, because she did not know
me, wrote:
'M. G , I am Volet. You owned
the violin I used. I still play. I enter
you and controll you at every per-
formance. You succeed best with com-
positions in A minor, because that is
my favorite key.'
"The rest of the message is not real-
tive to the matter in hand, so it is
omitted. I was completely dumfounded
upon receiving it. You smile. Let us
examine it. The medium knew of
neither Volet nor me. I do own Volet's
instrument. Volet was a Frenchman,
note his term of address. Also, upon
investigation I found that the favorites
in his repertoire were composed in the
key of A minor. This pretty clearly
establishes the identity of the commu-
nicator. As to his controlling me when
I perform, there may be considerable
question. But the fact remains that I
have been most successful with num-
bers composed in the key of A minor,
as stated in the message.
"Take whatever view of the matter
you choose. But I accepted the mes-
sage at its face value as a starting point
for further investigation regarding the
relation of the spirits of departed
masters to the performers using the
instruments which belonged to them.
And I ga!thered from the message two
working hypotheses: that the spirits of
departed masters may controll the
destinies of performers using their in-
struments and that the spirits of de-
parted masters may retain their prefer-
ence for certain keys.
"Immediately, I sailed for England
determined to clear up the mystery
shrouding the Stradivarius belonging to
Lord B . Through a mutual friend
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159
I obtained possession of the instrument,
which gave me an opportunity to work
at my task unhampered in any way.
Without notice I called upon a noted
medium and secured a sitting. I had
both my instruments and the Stradi-
varius in question with me. After much
futile trying, the medium wrote at the
dictation of the controll that there were
three spirits striving to give messages
and that nothing could be got through.
I was puzzled for a moment, but there
was certainly an interesting aspect to
the situation. Three spirits and two
instruments. I know that only one
spirit had associated itself with my
instrument, and just here T had my
first suspicion that there were two
spirits connected with the violin in
question.
With that thought I took my instru-
ment from its case by way of indicating
to the contending spirits, which of
them I desired to communic-ate with.
Immediately Volet got through a mes-
sage nearly identical with that I had
received from him in the West. I re-
placed my instrument and took out
the Stradivarius. The communication
ended abruptly; and the controll wrote
that nothing could be got through, for
two spirits were contending for the
right to communicate.
Here was my first triumph. The
mysterious "Strad" would soon have
no mystery. Already I knew that
spirits of departed masters controlled
the playing of their beloved instru-
ments, and I knew also that there were
two spirits contending for the controll
of this violin, or rather of whoever at-
tempted to perform upon it. But I
found myself apparently helpless, for
no message could be got through.
Seeing that nothing could be accomp-
lished in this manner, I turned my at-
tention to the instrument itself.
"My first conjecture was that were
certain keys, the playable ones, upon
which the spirits were agreed and
either remained neutral while they were
being played or else united harmo-
niously in their rendering, and that
there were certain keys upon which
they could not agree and which, in
their contending for the mastery over
the performer, they rendered unplay-
able by casting into his being a double
set of suggestions.
"Moving upon this theory, I set
about a classification of the several
keys under the heads of ' playable ' and
'unplayable'. I found the playable
keys to be C, G, D, A, F major and A,
E, B, D, minor, nine in all. The un-
playable keys I found to be E, B, Ft^,
C#, Bb, Eb, Ab, Db, Gb, Cb major
and F#, C#, G#, D#, G, C, F, Bb,
Eb minor, nineteen in all.
"This tabulation showed that there
were nine playable keys and nineteen
unplayable ones. It also showed that
of the unplayable keys eight were in flats
and eleven were in sharps. And the
most obvious explanation of the matter
seemed to be one of the spirits preferred
flats and the other sharps, which is by
no means an uncommon occurrence
among musicians. This would seemingly
account for the difficulty; for the per-
former's inability to play in a key of
flats might result from the conflict
of efforts on the part of one spirit to
maintain the performance of the selec-
tion in flats with the efforts of the other
to shift it into sharps and vice versa.
"Feeling that I had the clue to the
mystery, or rather that I was on the
way to indicate which spirit I desired
to communicate, I secured another sit-
ting. I attempted to play a selection
in flats to indicate that I wished to
have a communication from the spirits
preferring flats, just as I had indicated
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that I wished to hear from Volet in the
sitting when there were three spirits
present, by simply taking my instru-
ment our of the case. But both spirits
were present and nothing could be got
through for their wrangling.
"Frankly, I came aM^ay disappointed
and discouraged. But it soon dawned
on me that my assumption regarding
the preference of the two spirits for
flats and sharps was false, for there
were both fiats and sharps among the
playable keys. In fact the group con-
tained five keys in sharps, two in .flats
and two in the neutral signature.
"It was just here too that I recall the
second of my hypotheses, that regard-
ing the spirits of departed masters re-
taining a preference for certain keys,
and again I took up a new thread in
the tangle and set about finding the
two favorite keys, feeling that once this
was accomplished there would be no
difficulty in indicating with which spirit
I wished to communicate and in getting
a message through regarding the mys-
tery of the instrument.
"At first this seemed impossible except
by trying out compositions in all the
keys in the presence of the medium.
And this would be exceedingly difficult
to perform. I was turned aside from
this method of investigation by the
timely thought that after all, my original
idea that one spirit preferred flats and
the other sharps, might be true, else
why should there be more than two
keys in dispute? Slowly it came into
my thought that perhaps the difficulty
arose over flats and sharps, but this was
hastily discarded in the light of the fact
that there were both flats and sharps in
the playable keys, and I was forced
back upon the idea arising out of my
second hypotheses, that the difficulty
arose over a difference in preference for
kevs.
"Once this notion was firmly fixed, I
reached the conclusion that there must
be some relation between the two keys
in actual dispute and the other seven-
teen. Following this train of thought,
I came to the conclusion that certainly
each group of unplayable keys had
running through them some common
tone. By a process of elimination, this
common tone, I found to be, in the
case of the keys in flats, Eb and in the
case of the keys in sharps, to be D^-.
Now Eb is the tonic of Eb minor and
D^ is the tonic of D^f minor. And
here I had found the two keys in ques-
tion, Eb minor and D^ minor.
"Filled with the foreflush of victory
and expectation I rushed to my medium
again and secured a sitting. I played a
composition in Eb minor, certain that
I should receive a communication from
the spirit preferring that ke^-. But
there was the same wrangling of the
two spirits for communication. I played
a composition in D^ minor with the
same result.
"This was too much. My faith in
my medium began to totter. I began
to doubt her, to think that she was a
fraud and that she was making a fool
of me. So I secured a sitting with
another medium. The result was the
same, The controll said that nothing
could be got tmcugh because there
were two spirits present contending for
the privilege of communicating,
"This was a hard blow to my faith in
the method I had chosen to solve the
mystery of the Strad. I began to doubt
my hypotheses regarding the matter of
preference for certain keys. But knowl-
edge of the fact that men preferred keys
during life, gave me courage and I
determined all the more to clear up the
mystery conncering that violin.
"I evolved the theory that men pre-
fer a given key because the tonic of
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161
that key is the keynote of their being,
and that if that was true, then their
preference for a given key continued
throughout all the future. Then the
key-note of the being of one of the
spirits connected with the mystery of
that violin was Eb and the key-note of
the being of the other was D^. This
being so, they must respond to their
given keys. But experience had taught
me that they would not do it. And
again my mind was thrown back upon
itself.
It was just at this point that I became
aware of the fact that the two tones in
question, Eb and D^, are one and the
same tone. A terrible fear seized rtie
here aiid I became the victim of an
awful horror. Two spirits having the
same key-note of being and yet so
constructed as to prefer different keys.
I took up the spirit dominated violin
and began to play wildly, for I was
gone into madness.
I was playing in the key of Eb minor,
and after I had played off my excite-
ment I began to note the places in the
composition at which I had difficulty
in keeping on the key. I found that
the trouble always arose just as I was
leaving the tone of Eb. I tried a com-
position in D^ minor and found that
the same difficulty was experienced in
attempting to pass from the tone of
D^. I also noted that in passing from
Eb there was a tendency to play flat
and that in passing from D& there was
a tendency to play sharp.
"I trembled in the presence of these
terrible phenomena, for I realized fully
that I was dealing with spirits of the
dead and that they were antagonizing
and rendering futile my efforts to play
upon an instrument of the greatest
merit. But the desire to solve the
mystery had become madness, and
nothing could have deterred me from
proceeding. Yet I seemed to be at
the end of my efforts, for the spirits
were alike in having the same key-note
of existence, but differed in the matter
of preference for keys. And as the
sounding of the key-note was the only
means of indicating which I wished to
communicate, and as the two had the
same key-note, it appeared that I was
at the end of my investigation.
It was while I was on my way to
the Castle of Lord B to return his
mysterious instrument that I happened
to remember that Eb and D^ are really
not identical tones, that Eb is a little
sharper than D^ and that D^ is a
little flatter than Eb. At this, I silently
cried, 'Eureka!' and hurried once more
to my medium. I secured a sitting and
after carefully tuning my instrument I
drew the bow across the D string, being
careful lo have my first finger in the
exact position that produces the tone
passing for both Eb and D^. The tw^o
spirits appeared again and the same
wrangling prevented communication.
Then I slipped my first finger the
thousandth part of an inch out toward
the nut. Almost immxediately the me-
dium wrote:
'I am M. Lone, last master of that
violin. I still strive to play through
whoever would perform on it, but there
is a spirit here that always interrupts me.
My favorite key is D^ and '.
Here I shifted my finger up towards
the bridge, making a tone a little sharper
than the usual Eb. For an instant the
writing discontinued ; then the medium
wrote again:
'M. Lone does me great wrong here.
That violin was mine. I try to play
still by entering into the performer who
attempts to use it, but Lone is ill bred.
He interrupts me by giving the per-'
former suggestions at the same time
as myself. Paginini."
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FOUND -"A HAPPY WARRIOR"
(By Zoe Kincaid Brockman)
THERE are mountains and moun-
tains in North Carolina and all of
them lovely as a poet's dream ; but this
dream-haunted hill, with its wondrous
twilights, its star-hovered peaks, and
its slopes still fresh from the Muse's
tread will always be to me the most
beautiful of them all, since it opened its
heart to me once, just as the day was
a-borning and gave to me a secret,
which, now that the years have passed,
I may give to you.
The wraith of Spring-tide hovered
glad-winged over the mountains, her
rose-misty draperies fluttering very near.
Tall trees thrilled with the rush of
bouyant sap, wee buds swelled and
^uivered with latent life. Ripple-
throated songsters sowed the air with
silver notes. The very rocks and sod
seemed musical, as though the great
god Pan was tuning his pipes on the
mountain-top before sending their mel-
ody quivering over the valleys and
plains below.
I had risen early and climbed briskly
that I might once more catch the
nymphs and fauns at play, and was
now quite willing to rest awhile, watch-
ing the dew-drops coquetting with the
rising sun, and drinking in the beauties
of the dawn-kissed mountain.
Far down her sloping side, between
two grey boulders which projected like
huge clenched fists from the solid rock,
I espied an object which at first seemed
a huge green leaf tossed there by some
vagrant breeze.
Having long since acquired the habit
of considering each new out-of-door
object my own especial find, I hastened
down the narrow pathway to investi-
gate further.
The "green leaf" proved to be a
small cabin built, or rather, nested,
bungalow-fashion, between the two pro-
jecting boulders, its back firmly lodged
against the solid rock, its foundations
built upon the few feet of really lever
rock and sod.
The mountain sloped from the very
door of the cabin — there were no
steps — and, had it not been so small
and so firmly wedged, it would have
indeed been perilously located.
As could be readily seen from the
out-side, the cabin consisted of only one
small square room, with a rather wide
screened-in porch running along the
front of it. And here, resting upon a
small cot, a steamer rug thrown across
his knees, his twany hair rough from
the morning breezes, was my real find.
I gazed in astonishment at the white,
pain-lined face with its wonderful eyes,
full of youth and enthusiasm. It seemed
strange to find a cabin, much less an
inhabited one, in this lonely spot, and,
coining my thoughts into words without
considering what their effect might be
upon the stranger, I gasped "What are
you doing here?" He laughed, a lilting,
infectious laugh, and replied "Getting
well, See, I've just had my 'mornings
morning'," waving a thin hand toward
an empty milk bottle and an egg-stained
tumbler on the wicker table beside him.
"Are you all alone?" I asked. I
could scarcely picture that frail, white-
faced boy-man alone in the solitary
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163
(bin day after day, but the wee nest
seemed strangely empt)' and strangely
still.
' No, not quite alone," he answered,
smiling, "I've got It, and I'm always
busy trying to out-wit It."
"It", I echoed, not comprehending.
"Oh, Tuberculosis," he said cheer-
fully. "We've been here three months
already and I'm getting ahead of It
e\'ery day, the sneaking scoundrel."
"But surely you're not here alone
and ill," I said incredulously. "Why
should I have brought anyone with me?"
he asked, wonderingly. "It's rest, air,
and plenty to eat they say we must
have and I've had that. Besides, there
was no one to come with me," he added,
simply.
" I was a book-keeper, "he continued,
as I was silent, "small salary, not much
saved up, and no people except a brother
in Florida who has six kids and no
time for an}' troubles except his OAvn,
poor devil."
"But do you never see a physician?"
I enquired.
"One, just before I came here, none
since. I was all broken up then, there
was a girl, you know, and the specialist
who examined me was very kind. He
talked plain. Said six months in a good
sanitarium would cure me if I tried,
kept cheerful, a'e real food, slept real
sleep, and breathed air." He straight-
ened his shoulders and drank in great
draughts of the dew-freshened air,
thereby proving how nearly he had the
upper hand of It.
"I counted my funds," he continued,
"took stock of myself, sold my type-
writer and pulled out. Some artist
chap built this cottage while painting
in these mountains and he let me use
it free gratis. Glad to help the cause,
I suppose. Everybody's helping the
cause
such.
you know, — red cross seals, and
" I didn't want to go to a sanitarium
full of helpless, hopeless, suffering duff-
ers. Always was a queer chap, like to
be alone in the open. Sort of a pagan, I
reckon, finding God in everything, I
wanted to live my own way, think my
own thoughts, finght my own fight — ■
and win it. I am going to win, you
know," he added, looking at me with
his young, determined eyes.
"But how do you manage to prepare
your food and care for yourself," I
asked," are there not times when you're
too ill for that?"
"It was pretty bad at first," he ad-
mitted, "and I was some lonesome, but
I came here to stick it out. I live out
here," indicating the screened-in porch,
which was furnished with a wicker table,
a reclining chair and the cot upon which
he lay, "and its very convenient. An
old man down the mountain brings me
my supplies — whole wheat bread which
his wife bakes, fresh milk, eggs, and
beef. Twice a week he comes, and it's
no trouble to keep things fresh in this
air." Once again he threw back his
shoulders and drank deep of it.
"In there," he continued, pointing
to the door, "is my. kitchenette."
I walked to the door and looked in,
amazed and interested. There was a
small two-burner kerosene stove, a row
of white curtained shelves for food, a •
medicine shelf containing a small ther-
mometer, a bottle of creosote, several
spoons and tumblers. In one corner
was a cedar chest, presumably for
bedding. A heavy ulster hung on a
hook nearby.
"What do you think of it?" he asked,
when I had returned from my tour of
inspection, " I'm some housekeeper, eh?"
"It's wonderful," I. replied, "but are
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you always well enough to prepare your
food?"
"I seldom get beyond .broiling a
steak, "he answered, "and am never
too ill to whip up my egg- -and milk."
He pushed a small book toward me,
in which he had carefully registered his
various temperatures, his diet, and the
increase or decrease in his weight during
the three months of his seclusion.
"I thought it m.ight help in case I
had to give up and go to a regular hos-
pital," he said, simply. "They could
see the pace I'd been going, you know."
I talked for a few minutes longer with
him, refused his smiling invitation to
wait and see him broil a steak and pre-
pare his "temperance egg-nog", cast
about for something cheerful and en-
couraging to say, and failed utterly. I
f<;lt infinitely small and mean in the
presence of. his fine, lonely courage,
defying the pain-racked nights and
long, lonely days for the sake of fight-
ing his own battle — and winning. The
girl, he had confided to me, a sweet
light creeping into his eyes, knew
nothing of his lonely fight and fancied
him being cared for in the State Sani-
tarium. And this was the prize, if he
won.
And he did win.
When his cherry note came to me at
the address I had given him at parting
I read the triumphant message through
a blur of happy tears. I seemed once
again to see the tall, lonely hgure
wrapped in his steamer rug waving me
a gay good-bye from the screened-in
perch of the "dropped-leaf " on the
mountain-side.
Dance yellows and whites and reds,
Lead your gay orgies, leaves, stalks, heads,
Astir with the wind in the tulip bed.
— Robert Browning.
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165
THE SOUL OF ADAM
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS
Bv Hilliard Booth
CHARACTERS
Bruce Wolff : : a Forester
Ross Laneham A Minister
Sam Creasman L.. ...^ A Mountaineer's Son
Tate Jarret :- A Mountaineer
Peeb _ , , ^Inn Boy
Stage Driver
Nisie Creasman .....;.:.. : ...Sam's Mother, a Widow
Callie Jarret .....: Tate's Sister
Marion Fraser An Invalid
Miss Van Dusen „... Marion's Aunt
Time: 1900
SYNOPSIS • ■ ■ '^
ACT I — Nisie Creasman 's Cabin on Little River.
ACT II— The same; a month later.
ACT III — Buck Forest Hotel; four months later.
ACT IV — Nisie Creasman's Cabin; soon after.
Place: Western North Carolina
ACT I
Scene: Nisie Creasman's Cabin on
Little River. A primitive interior.
Rough board walls and floor; a win-
dow at rear,; the house-door at one
side; a door, opposite, to bedroom. A
fireplace and mantel near the bedroom
door. The walls are unpainted; a
crayon portrait of a mountaineer
hangs at rear, also an'Tn Memorium,"
framed. A garish advertising picture
is tacked over the mantel; a gun-rack
is below the picture. White curtains
at window. Rag rugs on the floor.
A small table bears a lamp, and near
it stands a basket of wool. A reel by
the fireplace; irons on the hearth. To-
bacco, matches, a lamp, a medicine
bottle, a pipe, fish-hooks, and a Bible
on the mantel. There are several
native-made straw-bottomed chairs,
while a steamer-chair stands by the
window. A fire crackles in the fire-
place. The window is open; through
it is seen a view of distant mountains
— high, majestic.
The ro^m is neat; according to Little
River standards it is well furnished.
Nisie Creasman is discovered seated
near the table, carding wool. She is an
active and energetic elderly w'oman, her
spare figure clad in a homespun dress.
Her gray hair is drawn back almost
tightly on her head. Her face shows
strong character. She works quickly,
and with no sign of feebleness. As she
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tosses the wool from the carders to the
table, Sam Creasman, her son, enters
at the house door, carrying a shotgun.
He is a gaunt but strong-framed fellow,
of twenty-four years, a stolid expression
on his regular features. He w^ears a
flannel shirt and a pair of old striped
trousers. He crosses leisurely to the
fireplace, ejecting a shell from the gun.
Apparently he does not notice Nisie;
apparently Nisie does not notice him.
Sam puts the gun on the rack over the
mantel, takes a plug of tobacco from
the shelf, and bites off a piece.
Nisie (w-ithout turning) — L i 1 1 1 e
River w^as good enough fer your daddy.
Sam (dispassionately)^ — ^All right.
Maw. (He slips the plug of tobacco in
his picket, and looks about for his
flask.)
Nisie (after a pause) — They want a
man down to Buck Forest. (Sam goes
rear and looks behind the crayon por-
trait.)
Sam- — Got yuh a wnld turkey.
(Nisie does not answer. Sam, cross-
ing to the "In Memorium," puts his
hand on the steamer-chair.)
Sam — Where's Miss Marion?
Nisie — Restin' up.
(Sam nods and crosses to the "In
Memorium" ; he looks behind the frame.)
Nisie (without turning; carding faster
— agitated) — You're a fool, Sam.
Sam— All right Maw. (He draws a
flask of corn whiskey from behind the
frame, takes a drink from the flask, slips
it into his hip pocket, wipes his mouth,
and turns.) Stage gone up?
Nisie (laying down her carders quick-
ly, rising and turning in protest) — Sam!
Sam (embarrassed) — Don't take on,
Maw.
Nisie — Whut fer will yuh go to
furrin parts? •.
Sam (with spirit) — Little Ri\'er was
good enough fer daddy !
Nisie (eager) — Yes. , j
Sam — Whut did dad ever do —
Nisie (interrupting) — He made him a
home. ;
Sam — Whut did dad ever see?
Nisie (serious; simply) — He saw the
mountings, an' the sun, an' God, Sam.;
Sam (laughing shortly, as he turns
away) — That was afore the railroad
come through the Gap. (Turning back,
with spirit) — An' dad's a-lyin/ out thar
by the big cedar, wdthout ever havin'
seen nary but the old hills he was born
in; I won't do it; not me. I've had
schoolin' three sessions. (With a sweep
of his arm) I know whut's out thar —
an' the railroad's through the Gap. ,
Nisie (pleading) — The hills air your
best friends, Sam.
Sam (dispassionate, as before) — I ain't
got nary agin the old hills. Maw; but
I got to jedge fer myself.
Nisie — Miss Marion's from out thar,
Sam ; she says it's best here.
Sam — Whut does she know? (Point-
ing to steamer chair) A-settin' in that
chair all day a-restin' up! Whut does
she know about plowin' an' plantin' an'
pullin' fodder; an' plowin' an' plantin'
an' pullin' fodder — (Breaks off wearily,
at the thought of the monotony of it.
A pause.)
Nisie — Might as well lay out your
shirt. ^
Sam — Might as well.
(As Nisie moves toward the bedroom
door, Callie Jarret enters at the house
door, breathless. An unkempt moun-
tain girl of twenty, illiterate, quick-i
tempered, pretty in a wild way. Wears
a loose fitting cotton dress, torn and
soiled, a pair of old shoes, and no stock-
ings. She pauses Avith flushed face as
she sees Sam.) .:
Callie — Yuh hain't gone yet! -
Sam— Hello, Callie. ' i
i
Nisie— Whut brings you down from]
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
167
the mounting, Callie Jarret?
Callie (with a laugh) — Hain't thar
room fer me on Little River, Nisie Creas-
man?
-Nisie — I ain't sayin' thar ain't; an'
then agin I ain't sayin thar is.
Callie — They got Tate.
Sam (startled)— When?
Callie — Last night. Thar was three
uv 'em. Al Gregg showed 'em. They're
takin' Tate t' Atlanta. An' ten gallons
uv good corn- juice a-soakin' in my po-
tato patch. (Laughs.)
Sam — By gar!
Nisie — I'm a right sorry fer your
brother Tate, Callie.
(Callie nods to Nisie, and nears Sam.)
Callie — Air yuh a-goin' away fer the
truth, Sam?
Sam- — I'm a-waitin' on the stage.
Callie — We-uns uv Little River
hain't good enough fer you no more, eh?
Nisie (with spirit) — My Sam's got
the book-larnin' to make his way in
furrin parts, Callie Jarret; an' if he's
got a mind to see the world, why I
reckon God's got beyond the Gap, too.
I applaud Sam fer goin' Callie Jarret;
I applaud him.
(She exits into the bedroom. Callie
laughs.)
Sam — Tate talked too much.
Callie — Hit hain't the first time
Tate's been took up fer brewin' liquor;
an' hit won't be the last Whut
about me, Sam?
Sam — I reckon Maw'll let yuh stay
on here a bit.
Callie (close to him) — Whut about
me?
Sam (abruptly, as he faces her) —
Whut about yuh?
Callie — ^When air yuh goin' to marry
me?
(Sam stares at her, then turns away
with a laugh.)
Sam — When that dead turk out thar
starts to settin'.
Callie (seizing his arm angrily)^Yuh
swore to Christ an' Satan yuh'd make
me your married wife. Sam Creasman.
Sam — Why don't yuh marry one uv
the others?
(Callie strikes him in the face with
her open hand. Sam flares up, faces her
threateningly, then cools down with a
laugh, takes out the tobacco, and bites
off a piece.)
Callie — Hit hain't so!
Sam — The Jarrets always was a poor
lot; anyone'U say that much fer yuh.
(Laughing, as Callie flares up again.)
Go ahead, hit me again, it's your last
chance.
Callie (her manner changing to one
of penitence) — Yuh made me do it,
Sam. Hit hain't so, I tell yuh.
Sam — ^I've heard talk, Callie Jarret.
Callie — That's a furrin' girl a-stayin'
here, hain't thar?
Sam (nodding) — Yes, thar is; whut
uv it?
Callie — She's been here a-right smart
time, hain't she?
Sam — Maw's been a-boardin' uv her
two months.
Callie — I've heard talk, Sam Creas-
man.
Sam (angry, then laughing contemptu-
ously)— She's weak in the lungs!
Callie — Thet's whut talk counts fer.
Sam. (As Sam starts) Thar hain't nary
one but yuh, Sam. (Nears him).
Sam — How do I know that?
Callie — -Hain't I proven hit to yuh,
Sam? Hain't yuh knowed hit nigh a
year?
Sam — Thar ain't nary man but me,
Callie?
Callie — Nary one, Sam; nary one!
I heard yuh was goin' away when they
took Tate; I come acrost the mountings
to see vuh.
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
S'S.M (nodding) — I like yuh all rig'it,
Callie.
Callie — An yuh '11 marry me?
Sam — When I come back to Little
River.
Callie — When '11 thet be?
Sam (gestures over the view) — When
I've seen whut's out thar.
Callie— Will yuh swear hit by Christ
an' Satan?
Sam (hesitating, and laughing) — I'll
swear it by this (kisses her roughly).
Callie (clinging to hirn) — I love yuh
true, Sam.
Sam (freeing himself)- — All right, Cal-
lie.
(Nisie enters. with an ironing-board,
and t».me handkerchiefs and neckties.
She lays the board on backs of two
chairs, and then takes iron from hearth.)
Nisie — I reckon thar's time ter press
out your partic'lers, Sam.
Sam- — I reckon so. Callie '11 stop on
here a bit with yuh. Maw.
Callie (quickly, as Nisie looks up
sharply) — Jest ter rest afore startin'
back, Nisie. (To Sam) I gotta get
home, and feed the things. (She seats
herself.)
Nisie- — I reckon the things needs
feedin'.
Sam (looking for fish-hooks on mantel,
and lifting up pipe) — Here's the fur-
rester's pipe on the fire-board, Maw; he
clean forgot it. (Finds the hooks, and
puts them in his pocket.)
Nisie (ironing) — Reckon he forgot it,
Sam? (Smiles.)
Sam (nodding)-^I reckon so.
Callie — Air the furresters in these
parts?
Sam — They're a-fightin' fire on Pisgah
since last week.
Nisie — Was they up your way, Callie?
Callie — Not fer six months.
Nisie (to Sam) — I've been a-ex-
pectin' uv the furrester back fer that
pipe every day, Sam; it's nigh a week
sence he's set eyes on Miss Marion.
Sam — Her? She's got weak lungs!
Nisie — I reckon it ain't her lungs
whut draws him.
Sam (as Callie laughs)— She's have
no use fer his rough kind.
Nisie (with a slap of the iron) — Jest
whut all uv Hogback says when your
daddy come a-aggravatin' me Sam. (As
Sam laughs) He wasn't fancy to look
at, was your daddy; but he was a pillar
uv strength, Sam.
(Marion Fraser appears at the bed-
room door;)
God was in every inch uv him, an'
not a door in the house could he walk
through without he stooped.
Marion — Father used to say Neal
Creasman was the realest man he ever
knew.
(Marion is a girl of twenty-five, city-
born and bred, refined, cultured, del-i
cate, attractive. Dressed simply in a
one-piece house dress.)
Nisie— Come right in, Miss Marion.
An' Neal said your daddy was as nice
an' common as if he'd been born on
Little River.
Marion — Father enjoyed his hunting
trips as he did nothing else.
Nisie— I reckon Neal an' your daddy
air a-takin' them huntin' trips over in
heaven. Miss Marion.
(Marion nods, and crosses to the
window, looking off at the view.) ■
Nisie — An' when God calls me, I'll
be a-settin' thar beside 'em, listenin' an'
makin' chinquapin chains jest as natural.
Marion — There's no longer any
smoke over Pisgah. (She seats herself
by the window.)
Nisie — I reckon . the furresters have
put the fire out.
Marion — How clear the mountain is
today.
Nisie (nodding) — Moved halfway up
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
169
ter the house; we air right in the middle
uv the sceneries.
Marion (to herself) — Wonderful !
Sam — I'd give the whole thing fer a
good movin' picture show!
Marion — Sam !
Sam — Ef the stage comes, call ter
Frank ter wait on me for the dowm trip,
Maw.
Marion (as Nisie nods) — Going away,
Sam?
Sax — Yes'm.
Marion — Far?
Sam — I ain't certain. I want ter see
Jacksonville, an' I want ter see N'
York; I reckon I'll go ter Greenville
first off.
Nisie (as Marion shows surprise) — I
reckon thar was plenty uv travelin'
done in the Bible, Miss Marion.
M\rion — If you reach New York,
Sam, you must call on a friend of mine —
Ross Laneham. He's a minister.
Sam — Yes'm. Thank yuh. (He exits
into the bedroom.)
Nisie — Baptist?
Marion — Episcopalian.
(Nisie slaps the iron down hard ; good
breeding prevents comment.)
Marion (to Callie) — I haven't seen
you befcre, have I?
Nisie- — Callie Jarret, uv Teller's
Creek.
Marion — Have you come far?
Callie — Yes'm.
Marion — Everything well at home?
Callie — Yes'm .
Nisie — ^\^ou're looken' well today,
Miss Marion; yuh got color in your
cheeks. You've picked up considerable
sence yuh come here.
Marion — I feel like a different per-
son.
Nisie — It's the mounting air.
Marion — If I'd gone to the Sana-
torium, I believe I shouldn't have been
anv better.
Nisie- — An' now yuh air a-goin ter
get well.
Marion^ — Now I want to get well.
.... How every tree on Pisgah stands
out!
Nisie (smiling)— I reckon yuh '11 have
ter look right hard to see them furresters.
Miss Marion.
Marion- — The foresters?
Nisie (with a laugh)— I've got pretty
keen eyesight myself!
Marion (abruptly) — I'm going to
borrow your ironing-board one of these
days.
Nisie — Ain't Spohie Wheeler doin'
your things right?
Marion — W^ell — my handkerchiefs —
she won't use clothes-pins, you know;
and they will blow in the red mud.
Callie— Why don't she do like I do —
hang em on the bob-wire?
Nisie — You're welcome to the ironin'
board. Miss Marion. (With a sigh) I
got a real affection fer it.
Marijn — Affection — for the ironing-
board?
Nisie (nodding) — My mother was
laid out on it.
(The call of stage-driver heard off.
and nearing rattle of the stage.)
Nisie (putting down iron) — It's the
stage.
Driver (calli.ig) — Passenger fer yuh,
Nisie Creasman. Whoa thar! This
here's the house.
Nisie— /I reckon it's Aunt Harriet.
Sam (heard calling) — Stop fer me on
the down trip, Frank.
(Nisie goes out at the house-door.)
Driver (heard calling) — Easy with
the bear's grease, Sam. (Laughter.)
I'll pick yuh up.
Callie (crossing to Marion) — I want
ter tell yuh, Sam Creasman 's goin' ter
marry me.
Marion — Why, Callie.
Callie — Yes'm; when he gits back.
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
I want yuh ter tell Nisie uv it.
Marion — You must tell Nisie your-
self.
Callie (with a laugh) — Me tell Nisie?
Driver (heard calling) — Git up, thar!
(Rattle of stage moving off.)
Callie — Nisie wouldn't hear it from
me.
Marion — But, Callie, —
(Breaks off as Nisie enters.)
Nisie — It's a friend uv yourn. Miss
Marion. Come right along in, sir.
(Ross Laneham enters, a man of
thirty-eight, clean-cut, considered broad-
minded by a conventional parish. A
pleasant face, smooth shaven. He car-
ries a box.)
Marion (rising) Ross!
Ross (laying down box, and taking
her hands eagerly) — Marion !
Marion — Ross Laneham !
Ross — Why, you're looking well; al-
most your old self!
Marion (laughs, nods, and turns to
Nisie) — This is Ross Laneham. (To
Ross) Mrs. Creasman.
Ross (shaking hands with Nisie) —
You've done wonders with Miss Fraser
in two months; you've worked a miracle.
NisiE — Well, she did look a right
smart sorrier when she first come.
Mai. ION — What brings you here,
Ross?
Ross — You really ask?
Marion — All the way from New York
— to see me?
Ross (nodding), — I should have been
here yesterday. I missed my connec-
tion at Salisbury. Don't tire yourself
standing.
NisiE (as Marion seats herself) — I
reckon we'll help Sam with his bag, Cal-
lie.
(Puts down ironing-board, and gathers
up ties, etc.)
Callie — Lll wait on him here.
NisiE (angrily) — Yuh come along,
Callie Jarret! Yuh kin start up the
stove fer me, I reckon.
Callie— I'll help yuh, Nisie r (She
exits through bedroom.)
NisiE — Callie jest naturally ain't got
a bit uv sense. (With a smile) Now
draw your chairs up ter the fire. Miss
Marion.
(She exits through bedroom.)
Ross— What a sight for a sore heart
you are.
Marion (laughing) — How's Auntie?
Ross — Well. (Indicating box) She
sent you the walking dress you wrote
for.
Marion — It was good of you to
trouble with it. Sam Creasman 's about
to start our to see the world, Ross;
and Nisie —
Ross (interrupting) — Never m i n d
these people.
Marion — These people, indeed!
Ross — Hasn't the novelty of the sit-
uation begun to wear off?
Marion — Yes.
Ross — Then you'll consent to go to
. the sanatorium, where your friends can
get at you once in a while without being
jolted over country roads in springless
traps?
Marion — No. As the novelty wears
off, I find myself content.
Ross — You really like it here?
Marion^ — Yes. Nisie tells me of my
father; I just begin to realize what his
hunting trips meant to him.
Ross — This country was all very well
for your father; and it was natural you
should want to see the mountains he
used to tell of —
Marion — And the people.
Ross — And the people. But now that
you're on the road to health — for you
are going to get well —
Marion (with a laugh) — Of course
I'm going to get well.
Ross — Come back to your friends.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
171
Marion (serious)— Ross, I'm at peace
Avith myself.
Ross — The wilderness impresses you
with the futility of the social game?
Marion — ^Yes, and nine-tenths of
civilization along with it.
Ross — Solitude often has that effect
on one. What appears as a new, a
philosophical view of life, is merely a
natural reaction.
Marion- — You think my contentment
here won't last?
Ross— How can it? ,
\
(A pause. Marion looks from the
window without answering.)
Ross — As soon as you are stronger,
you will heed the call of your friends,
rich and poor alike. The call of the poor
will reach you first; you won't be able
to refuse it. I know you too well.
Marion (still looking from the win-
dow)— If I can accomplish some good
here ?
Ross — In just what way?
Marion (abruptly, as she faces him)
— Ross, do you believe in regeneration?
Ross — If I didn't, I should resign my
pulpit. The man whom religion cannot
influence, uplift —
Marion (abruptly) — Yes, what of
him? The man for whom religion has
I ceased to have a meaning, for whom
ambition has ceased to exist?
Ross — Of whom are you thinking?
Marion — Bruce Wolff.
Ross (startled) — Bruce Wolff . . . .
Bruce Wolff here?
Marion — In the Forest Service.
Ross — But I thought — his father told
me — he was with a law firm — in Buenos
Ay res.
Marion^t-Hc hasn't written his father
in three years. Mr. Bruce refused to
aid him unless he returned to the law.
Bruce wanted to take up ranching.
The break became final.
Ross — Now I understand the father's
sudden loss of interest, his lack of spirit
— he is grieving over his son.
Marion— When I first saw Bruce —
knew who he was — I was frightened.
You know how we were taught to con-
sider him a pariah, an outcast.
Ross — A man who wouldn't stop at
murder in order to have his way.
Marion — That's not fair, Ross.
Ross — Not altogether fair.
Marion — The man whom Bruce at-
tacked recovered; nothing was further
from Bruce Wolff's thoughts than mur-
der.
Ross — You know his story?
Marion — He assaulted an officer who
arrested his friend ; he was forced to
leave the city on account of it.
Ross — It was the culmination of a
hundred follies; the crowning escapade
of a boy who had every opportunity to
make good; money, friends, a fond
father — his father '.s affection denied him
nothing.
Marion — His father's aftection is to
blame for his follies.
Ross — Marion, you are interested in
the welfare of Bruce Wolff?
Marion — Yes.
Ross — Marion, do you love him?
Marion — No; I am sorry for him,
Ross; I want to bring him to a realiza-
tion of his opportunities; I want to etfect
a reconciliation between him and his
father — between him and society. I
have already influenced him for good.
Ross (shaking his head)- — He won't
understand you. With a man like that
it is all or nothing.
Marion — You don't belie\e his spirit-
ual awakening is possible?
Ross (with conviction)- — When you
sound the depths of a man's soul, you
sound eternity; you can't sound that
depth with words; you can't reach the
divinit}^ in man by a good example.
Words mend conduct, example cures
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
faults; the eternal spark in another is
rekindled only by the eternal spark in
one's self. To reach the best in a man,
you must give the best in yourself,
freely, without compromise, without
regret, with full understanding, absolute
sympathy; in short, you must give
love — human, divine — love complete.
And that you cannot give Bruce Wolff.
Marion— No.
Ross — Have you seen much of the
man?
Marion- — Every day, while the for-
esters were camped near here.
Ross — Marion, there is more to
Bruce Wolff's story than you know. It
seems right for me to speak of it. The
officer whom Bruce Wolff assaulted did
not get well.
Marion — Did not — (pauses, shocked)
Ross — He died as a result of that at-
tack. He lingered a month. When it
was certain he could not live, Bruce
Wolff's father bought the silence of the
physician and the family: death was
accredited to another cause. I learned
of it recently — through the physician.
He brought me a troubled conscience.
Bruce Wolff himself doens't know.
Marion— Doesn't know — that the
man he attacked — died?
Ross (shakes hir head) — I believe not;
don't tell him.
Marion — No need to warn me. Bruce
never meant to kill the man. It doesn't
make his act more guilty
Ross — That stands between him and
God. (Sits by her.) Have your thoughts
not been at all of me, Marion?
Marion- — Indeed, yes.
Ross — You know why I am here?
Marion — As a friend, Ross.
Ross (nodding) — As a friend; for his
answer.
Marion — Give me until Summer.
Ross — You still put me off?
Marion — I'm not strong enough to
marry yet. The duties of a minister's
wife —
Ross^ — Happiness would bring you
health.
Marion — I wonder!
Ross — I think of you constantly. I
think of the day when you will sit beside
me in the library, and — Ah, Marion!
Marion — Do you never think of me
as here — in the fields, the forest?
Ross — Yes, I worry about you half
the time.
Marion (her hand on his arm) — I'm
content with things for the present, Ross.
I don't want them different.
Ross — Until Summer, then; when
you are stronger.
Marion (nodding) — Stronger — to de-
cide. (Draws shawl about her.)
Ross — You're cold. (Closes the win-
dow. Imperceptibly the light begins to
fade.)
Marion — You'll stay here tonight,
Ross.
R.OSS — I must catch the evening train
at Pensore.
Marion — You go back tonight?
Ross — I promised to be in town on
Saturday. I planned to be here yester-
day. (As Marion nods) And I have my
answer. Go to the sanatorium, Marion;
here you have none of the comforts of
life.
Marion — I have something better.
(Call of stage-driver heard and rattle
of nearing stage.)
Marion — It's the down stage.
Ross (earnest) — Don't try to reclaim
Bruce WolfT. Be friendly with him —
he won't understand anything more.
Marion — He shan't misunderstand
me, Ross.
Ross — I trust you. What can I send
you? Books — magazines?
Marion— Nothing
ing.)
Driver (heard calling
(Ross rises, go-
Hey-oop! All
\
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
173
aboard for Buck Forest.
Marion — My love to Auntie.
Ross — It's done me a world of good
to see you.
(Sam enters with an old grip. He is
dressed in unpressed suit of brown cloth
stiff shirt, and high collar. Nisie and
Callie enter after him.)
Sam — G'bye, Maw; g'bye, Callie.
Nisie (following Sam) — Don't get
masacreed by the cars, Sam.
Marion— Mr. Laneham will see Sam
safely started, Nisie.
Nisie (looking at Laneham in sur-
prise)— Well, yuh, air a-poppin in an'
poppin' out!
Sam — G'bye, Miss Marion.
Nisie (as Sam turns to go off) — Sam!
(Catches hold of his coat. Sam turns.)
Sam (shaking her off) — Don't forgit
to feed the hounds, Maw.
Driver (heard calling) — Quit yuh
prinkin', Sam!
(As the driver speaks, Bruce Wolff is
seen passing by the wondow.)
Sam — I'm with yuh, Frank! (Turns
to door. Bruce Wolff enters at the door,
a handsome, heavy-set fellow, frank
eyes; dressed in a worn khaki suit and
leggings. He has a branch of dogwood
blossoms in his hand.)
Sam — Hello, Wolff. I'm off on the
cars this time.
(Ross turns abruptly. Marion's eyes
light up.)
Bruce (slapping Sam on the back) —
Good for you, Sam.
Nisie— If it ain't the furrester!
Bruce — Brought you some dogwood,
Nisie. (Throws it on table.)
Sam — Come along, Mr. Laneham.
(Calling) Bunch your reins, boy! (He
exits) .
Driver (heard speaking) — Well, whut
do yuh know about that? (Riotous
laughter.)
Nisie (anxious)^ — Be keerful now.
Sam. Remember whut the good book
says. (Exits, after Sam, admonishing
him.)
Marion — Bruce, you remember Ross
Laneham?
Bruce — Hello, Laneham.
(Laneham extends his hand ; Bruce
takes it frankly.)
Ross — Miss Fraser told me you were
here. May I tell your father?
Bruci — Have you got a grudge
against the old man? (Laughs, and then
speaks seriously.) Tell him what you
please.
Driver (heard calling) — We're waitin
on yuh, preacher!
Ross — Good bye. Marion (Takes her
hand again.)
Marion — I'll see you off.
Ross (protesting) — The chill of the
evening- —
Marion — It won't hurt me (moves to
door with Laneham).
Ross (to Brucej — Your father's a
broken man, Bruce; he want's you with
him in the firm. (As Bruce does not
answer, but regards Laneham steadily) :
Why not let him have his way? ' (Tc
Marion, as Bruce half smiles, and turns
av/ay with a shrug) : Draw your shawl
around you closely.
(Laneham and Marion go out of the
house door. Bruce looks after them a
second, then turns thoughtfully, and
stops short as he sees Callie for the first
time.)
Callie (Sheepishly) — Hello, Fur-
rester.
Bruce (low — his tone even) — ^Whats
are you doing down here, Callie?
Callie- — I'm a-goin' ter marry Sam
Creasmaii.
Bruce — Is that fair — to Sam?
Callie (aggressively) — Don' yuh tell
Sam about yuh an' me. Yuh keep your
mouth shut, Furrester. I hain't askin'
nothin' uv yuh.
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Bruce — -You've no reason to.
Callie — Yuh hain't got no call ter
come atween me an' any other.
Bruce — No. I'm damned sorry
there's anything to tell, Callie.
Callie — I reckon hit don't make no
difference now. (With spirit) : I reckon
I'm as good as Sam Creasman.
Bruce — I reckon you are.
Driver (heard calling) — Git ap, thar,
Pepper-Box! All right fer Buck Forest.
Penrose, and che cyars! (Rattle of
stage.)
Callie (running to door, and calling)
— Send me a postcard, Sam! (Turning,
and speaking to Bruce) : I hain't nothin'
agin yuh, Furrester^ — while yuh keep
your mouth shut. (Running out of the
door) : Send me a postcard when yuh
git ter where you're goin' Sam!
(Bruce shakes himself as though from
a bad dream, turns to the mantel, and
takes up his pipe as Marion and Nisie
enter. Nisie is tearful.)
Bruce — Came back for my pipe,
Nisie.
Nisie (trying to conceal her tears) — I
allowed as how yuh would.
Marion (taking up the dogwood) —
It's the first dogwood I've seen.
Bruce — I cut if for you on Pisgah —
snaggy work.
Marion — For Nisie, you mean.
Bruce (with a laugh, as Nisie shakes
her head) — ^I'm going to stay for grits,
Nisie.
Nisie (nodding, tearful) — An' fer
cornbread in the mornin', Furrester?
Bruce (nodding) — Unless the fire on
Pisgah breaks out again.
Nisie — Thar's Sam's bed empty.
(Turns rear to hide her tears.)
Marion — Don't be anxious about
Sam. Mr. Laneham will look out for
him.
Bruce — As right as a fiddle.
Nisie (nods- — then looks through the
window) — Ef thar ain't them chickens
in the seeds agin! Shoo! They air the
most mean-spereted chickens I ever set
eyes on, Miss Marion. Shoo! Shoo!
(Goes out of the door.)
Marion (smelling the dogwood) —
Spring! Spring's coming!
Bruce — Hiking right along. The
wild azelea's putting out. Sit by the
lire? (Lifts the steamer chair to fire, as
Marion nods.) Laneham lik it here?
Marion (sitting) — He said the roads
made hard riding.
Bruce — Why don't he travel on his
legs?
Marion — He wouldn't have had time
to get here.
Bruce^ — He came today? (As Marion
nods) : And left — (breaks into low-
voiced song, his spirits rising): "Fly
Away, Little Bird, Fly Away — "
Marion — That's a new one, isn't it?
Bruce (as he takes tobacco from
pocket) — I've got a repertoire that'd
reach from here to Hogback. Mind if
I smoke?
Marion — No.
Bruce (as he fills his pipe) — When's
our possum hunt coming off?
Marion — When Nisie can leave her
carding.
Bruce — I've got the cabin stocked
and ready. You'll like camping in a
mountain cabin.
Marion — This cabin is in the moun-
tains.
BRUCE-^This is a house. Here you
have every comfort, every luxury. In
that little deserted cabin on Pisgah —
(pauses.)
Marion — Well?
Bruce — It's hidden by a tangle of
wild grape and rhododendron; it's off
the beaten trail, in the midst of a dense
stand of pine. Everyone's forgotten its
existence except the possums— and me.
It's hidden awav from the world. Even
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
176
the sun doesn't find it till it's flooded
the rest of the '"'mountain; then a shaft
comes crackling on the window like red
fire. When you've seen that, you've
seen the wilderness.
Marion — Do you think I'll be able
to reach it?
Bruce — We can go on horses to
within a quarter-mile of it.
Marion — I've got my walking-dress
(points to box).
Bruce — Khaki?
Marion (holding our her hand for it)
— Auntie sent it by Ross.
(Bruce takes up box, breaks string,
and hands box to Marion, who opens it.)
Bruce — We'll take Sam's hounds
along, and make a great killing.
Marion (nodding) — I want to see the
real wilderness. (Holds up a modish
blue velvet walking dress). Oh!
Bruce — Good Lord ! Imagine that on
Pisgah !
Marion — Poor Auntie. (Let's dress
fall back in box. Bruce takes box, holds
it, and fingers the velvet.) She can't
conceive of a walk anywhere but on the
Avenue. (Watching Bruce) : You ad-
mire it? )
Bruce^ — It sort of brings back things.
(Puts it down with a short laugh.)
Nisie'll rig you up sometning to wear.
(Seats himself on the floor by Marion,
before the fire.)
Makion — Doesn't it bring back re-
grets?
Bruce — No.
Marion — You don't give your memo-
ries a chance.
Bruce — Think not?
Marion — No.
(A pause. Bruce draws on his pipe
reflectively.)
Bruce — Reckon there's any truth in
what Laneham said about the old man?
Marion — Yes.
Bruce — Well; no good thinking about
it.
Marion — Why not? Your father's
a disappointed man, Bruce — on your
account. You ought to realize it.
Bruce — Wants me to wear a collar in
a law-office.
Marion — Why don't you better your-
self, Bruce- (As Bruce looks up at
her) : For your father's sake!
Bruce — I've not got any kicK com-
ing.
Marion — You're wasting yourself
here.
Bruce — Fighting forest fires suits me.
Marion — You could win success as a
lawyer if you wished ; you could make
a name for yourself.
Bruce — I'd hang before I'd go back
to New York.
Marion — In some other city, then —
Atlanta.
Bruce — What good would success do
me? What would I do with it?
Marion — It would make the b':
years of your father's life happy. It
would put you in a position to help
others — these people about here, if
you liked.
Bruce — That wouldn't be so bad.
Marton — The winning of it would
giv you something worth while to
fight. (A pause.) It might bring you
some girl who would make you very
happy.
Bruce (shortly) — I've spoiled my
chance of that.
M A ri ON — Why ?
Bruce — No girl worth winning'd ever
have me.
Marion — You're not a weak man.
Bruce — Would you want a friend of
yours to marry me?
Marion — If there was love between
you ; yes.
Bruce (eager) — D'you mean that?
(Dejected, as Marion nods): That's be-
176
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
cause you don't know what I am.
Marion — I know more than you
imagine.
Bruce — There's something — one
thing — I've done. How much will a
girl forgive a in man?
Marion — A great deal, in the man she
loves.
Bruce — But this thing — (breaks off,
his throat dry. He gazes into the fire.)
Mario;t — I believe I know what you
speak of, Bruce. I've been told of it
today.
Bruce — Marion!
Marion (lightly) — If you wish to con-
fess; why, this is my day for receiving
confessions. First, Ross- —
Bruce (interrupting) — Ross Laneham
asked you to marry him?
(Marion does not answer. A pause.
Bruce, taking her silence for consent,
empties his pipe on the hearth. The
room is now dark, except for the fire-
light.)
Bruce — I reckon I'll stay on in the
forest service.
Marion — And then Callie: she con-
fessed a love-affair.
Bruce (quickly) — She told you?
Marion (nodding) — Your confession,
I believe I know.
Bruce — And you forgive me?
Marion- — Yes. You acted on impulse
— without thought, reason; you M'^ere
sorely tempted; you weren't altogether
to blame.
Bruce— "before God, that's true.
Marion— Your father was too harsh
with you.
Bruce— Marion, I've lived like a
beast of the fields.
Marion — To realize that is to turn
to some<"hing better.
li^ Bruce— And the follies I was guilty
of m New York!
Marion — I've already forgiven the
worst.
Bruce — Yes. If you cared for me —
(They gaze into the fire. Marion
draws her shawl about her with a
shiver. Nisie enters, a lantern in her
hand, a sunbonnet on her head.)
Nisie — I'm a-goin' up by the big
cedar a bit. Miss Marion. Air yuh a-
settin' in the dark voluntarily?
Bruce^ — I'll light the lamp, Nisie.
(Crosses to the table.)
Nisie — From up thar I kin see the
spark from Sam's train. (Turning to
Marion) : The preacher said as how thar
wa'nt no matter uv marriage atween
yuh an' him. Miss Marion, or I'd take
yuh along with me. (To Bruce, as he
starts and fumbles with the lamp) : Air
yuh a-lookin' fer a match, Furrester?
Bruce — (low, exultant)! have one.
(Strikes a match.)
Nisie (opening door) — I kin hear the
singin' down at Sophie Wheeler's. (She
goes out at the door.)
(Bruce extinguishes the match, and
crosses quickly to Marion.)
Bruce — Marion !
Marion (rising in protest against his
tone, his manner) — No, no.
Bruce (close to her) — If you cared
for me !
Marion (her voice uncertain) —
Bruce!
Bruce — I could better myself, I could
go back into law; win out at it. I could
win back dad's respect. I could do
everything you wanted me to —
Marion — You could do all that alone! .
Bruce — With you. For you. I'd
make myself worthy. You're trembling.
Marion (with a cry) — -Ross was right;
it is all, or nothing.
Bruce (taking her in his arms) —
Marion!
Marion — And I give you all so
gladly—
Bruce — Marion; I have you!
SKY-X.AND MAGAZINE
177
Marion — Bruce, Bruce; I didn't know
— I never realized^ —
Bruce — I have you; you're mine. I
have you.
Marion (attempting to free herself,
as a pencil-line of fire is seen on the dis-
tant mountain) — Pisgah! Look! The
fire's broken out on the mountain!
Bruce (unheeding) — Marion; I have
you— you.
Marion (attempting to free herj^elf ) :
You must go; the boys need you. The
fire's broken out; you must fight it. con-
quer it. Bruce, you must conquer
yourself!
Bruce (releasing her: alert, alive) —
Yes, I'm going to conquer; conquer
everything in my way! (His voice full
of the wonder of it): Why, Marion;
there's nothing more that stands in the
way! You're mine!
(He starts to return to her. She for-
bids him with a gesture and a shake of
her head. He hesitates, then crosses to
her quickly, embraces her passionately,
crosses back, throws open the door, and
darts out, his voice raised in jubilant
happiness.)
Bruce — Nisie, Nisie; she's mine! (His
voice heard receding as he runs down the
trail): She's mJne, stars, she's mine;
God; do you hear, mountains, she's
mine! Mine! (His voice dies away.)
Marion (low-
Life everlasting!
for us both.
CURTAIN
(To be continued)
triumphant) — Life,
Here and hereafter —
"When women get in politics,
Reforms will just be great,
Two dollar notes will be marked dow n
To one dollar ninety-eight."
178
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE INDUSTRIAL WORKER'S
OWN POSTOFFICE
AFTER SEVEN DAYS RETURN TO
CONSTANCE LOVEJOY
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE '
WINSTON-SALEM, N. C.
/-/^^^
"Maple-Rose-Nook"
Henderson ville, N. C,
March 10, 1915.
My dear friends: —
This is just to speed you a joyous
Easter Greeting. I am sure your hearts
are brimful of the gladness of this holy
season. AsT lie here among my sofa
pillov/s trying to regain the strength I
foolishly overtaxed by attempting to do
too many things in too big a hurry —
notwithstanding my weakness and wear-
iness I am intoxicated with the joy of
the springtime. The soft,< sweet air
seems filled with messages of hope and
promise. The tender notes of the little
mating birds pour forth in melody at the
coming of spring. The violets and
jonquils, that have kissed t^heir way
thru the hard, cold earth so persistently
that she just had to yield to t'leir
caresses and let them out to brighten
and cheer this old world, shed a de-
licious perfume and add a harmonious
touch of color against the rapidly
greening grass. It is so interesting, so
wonderful to witness the resurrection of
the fiov/ers, to watch the erstwhile in-
animate plants come slowly back to
life. After all, out of death comes life;
out of despair comes hope. We know-
that just as surely as the little plants
awake and rise from the dark, cold
which has imprisoned them even
after our work is finished, we, too,
shall awake from our long sleep and
rise into the fullness of the life immortal,
for did not the Christ whose ascension
the Easter tide commemorates burst
the bonds, of t?ie tomb and ascend to the
Father Xo. claim the heritage which his
service to suffering humanity so long
denied him? "I go unto my Father,
but I will come again and receive you
unto myself that where I am there ye
may be also." "I am the Ressurrec-
tion and the life." Without the Ressur-
rection, without this promise of eternal
life to follow would hot our pilgrimage
here indeed be vain?
But it was not my intention to preach
to you, but rather to talk a little while
about this spring joyousness that has
taken such complete possession of me
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
179
as to make my heart sing, my pulses
throb with renewed vigor.
It just occurred to me that if life
were covered with but one season this
world would indeed be a monotonous
place. Instead, through the providence
of a wise and wondrous kind God, we
are given the four seasons — the balmy
spring when plant life revives and the
thawing earth is broken up and the
seeds dropped into the ground; the
maturer summer, with its hot sun
which ripens the fruits and grains and
vegetables that have been born of the
tiny 'Seeds; the autumn, with its plen-
teous harvests, its crisp, invigorating
days and gorgeous foliage; the winter,
with its chilling blasts, its beautiful
snow scenes, its school days and op-
portunities for doing things we never
could do in summer — that season when
Old Mother Earth takes her vacation
and rests until spring again awakens
her into action and she once more takes
up the busy task of producing nourish-
ment for her dependent children. I
think you will agree with me that
Mother Earth is a most industrious old
lady when you pause to consider what
an abundance and variety of good
things she yields up for our use. What
a vain old mother she is! How often
she changes her garments, and what
splendor enters into their makeup!
In a fickle mood she adorns herself for
a time in all the varying shades of green ;
again she bedecks herself in gowns of
gorgeous colors — gaudy yellows ana
reds of every hue; then seeming to tire
of such showy garments she dons in-
stead sombre browns and quakerlike-
greys. As suddenly she slips off all her
clothing and immodestly bares her
naked form to the public gaze, and then
as if ashamed of her lack of propriety,
she hastily covers it with magnificent
ermine robes trimmed with diamond
crystals.
But possibly I talked too fast a
moment ago when I accused her of
being a -s^ain old mother, perhaps she
is not vain at all but just bedecks her-
self in costly and wonderful garments
that she may bring pride and pleasure
to her adoring children — we do so love
to see our real flesh and blood mothers
dress up and look "just perfectly
splendid." Secretly between you and
me, next to the gorgeous costumes she
wears in the autumn. I like her best in
the soft green velvets she is beginning
to put on now, with corsages of violet
and yellow and rose to follow — pleasing
little splashes of bright color that
accord perfectly with her gowns of
green .
Speaking of all these beautiful things
takes me back to where we left off —
you doubtless recall my habi.t of brea Ic-
ing away and wandering all around
before I come back again — well, I
believe we were talking of spring joy-
ousness and this leads up to the thought
that life was evidently intended not
only for service but enjoyment else
why are v,'e given so many wonderful
and beautiful things every day in the
year? I believe M^e ought to squeeze
every drop of happiness we can out of
this beautiful world not forgetting to
look around for someone to share it
with. I am of the opinion that the
greatest happiness consists in just doing
little helpful things for others and in
the enjoyment of the simple, everyday
things about us. If we are in harmony
with nature, our hearts wiH catch the
music of the birds songs, ti;e sweetness
of the flowers, and the sunshine danc-
ing about us and will give it out in
greater measure to those with whom
we come in contact. If you are loo
busy through the week, suppose you
try taking a tramp Sunday afternoon
180
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
through the great,- silent woods — or
parks, if you cannot go to the woods —
and visit awhile with the birds, the
little currying chipmunks. If in the
woods, gather the violets and wood
anemones and forget-me-nots; throw
yourself down on a bed of moss and
listen to the music of a little singing
brook while you breathe great draughts
of oxygen into your lungs. Do this
once and I believe you will agree with
me that it beats a cheap Saturday
night show "all hollow" as the office
boy says.
I have just been reminded that I must
not talk longer to you today as I am
supposedly taking the "rest cure" —
just one parting thought — and then I
am through with all but the post-
scripts— you know postscripts are my
long suit — well, just this: I think we
should learn to practice moderation in
all things — in our work, our play, our
recreation. Now, I know you will
laugh at my inconsistency, for I am
quite aware that I am preaching some-
thing I have not practiced, but it is
because I have learned this valuable
lesson through bitter experience that
1 am in a position to preach. Had I
exercised moderation in my work I
would have escaped this irksome old
rest cure, but somehow it seemed im-
possible to do so there were such loads
of things to be done. I would no sooner
do one than another would bob up and
sometimes they all bobbed up at once,
and I so I kept on doing them just as
hard and fast as ever I could forgetting
all the while that I • should practice
moderation, until one day my strength
suddenly left me and first thing I knew
I was surrounded with sofa pillows,
smelling salts bottles and stimulants —
all because I hadn't practiced modera-
tion. Now, wasn't that a silly way to
behave? I laughed at first and said I
would be out of it next day, but when
next day came I found I couldn't do
anything but just lie still, and now I
am wasting lots of precious moments
having to lie still, for the reason that I
failed to be sensible, and tried to ac-
complish too many things at break-neck
speed.
All I can urge, my dear friends, is
that you profit by my foolish example
and don't do likewise. Exercise mod-
eration in whatever you do that you
may be spared to do more, do it better
and do it longer.
Sincerely your friend,
Constance Lovejoy.
P. S. No. 1. — I wanted to send you
some recipes for coloring Easter eggs,
but the "rest cure" prevented me from
writing them out. I suspect you have
on hand better ones than I 'could offer
anyway.
P. S. No. 2. — I hope you are all getting
ready to sow lots of flower seeds around
your doorsteps. Old fashioned pinks,
and Marygolds and bachelor buttons
and Sweet Williams and Johhny-jump-
ups and sun flowers give such a cosy,
homelike look to a place, and morning
glories and honey-suckles over the porch
and windows give such a cool, sweet
shade. If you have no flower seed on
hand, I would not be the least bit
surprised if several of you would ask
the president or superintendent for
some that you would be liberally sup-
plied.
P. S. No. 3. — I have been told that
typhoid fever finds no place where sun
flowers are grown. Be that as it may,
I like sun flowers because they are such
bright, cherry, companionable fellows
and the seed is so good for the chickens.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
181
BOOK REVIEWS
^
JOYFUL HEATH ERBY by Payne
Erskine who wrote "The Mountain
Girl," now in its fifteenth printing, is a
story so full of the struggle and strength
and interest of life to-day that it stirs
our emotions deeply while it delights us
with its unusual plot and masterly char-
acter drawing. The scenes are chiefly
laid in Boston and in a small New
England coast town, the leading char-
acters being an artist and a delightful
country girl whose charm and innocence
will appeal strongly to every reader who
comes to know her. The perfect type
of unspoiled American womanhood,
Joyful is as charming a heroine as has
been portrayed in fiction in many a day.
To tell the story of this appealing
romance in detail would be to lessen
the reader's pleasure in one of the most
remarkable novels of recent years; it
must suffice to say that "Joyful Heath-
erby" is a strong and appealing love
story, in which people of rare quality
are pictured and some of the most vital
problems of the day are handled illu-
minatingly and inspiringly. Especially
it shows the charm of a nature so edu-
cated and fortified by its instinctive
comprehension of beauty and goodness
that nothing can harm it. — Little, -Brown
& Co.
Charming and human. . . A very
charming as well as a very human
story. . . It deals with matters of vital
interest to everybody. . . It is a vivid
picture of true life. . . Joyful Heath-
erby is a very genuine; young girl, who
is forced to struggle against certain
obstacles in order to win her happiness.
. . The whole story is told with remark-
able power, and the character drawing
is especially good.- — Boston Globe.
Payne Erskine, whose story, "The
Mountain Girl," was one of the few
genuine romances published last year,
has another book with which to dis-
tinguish the new year's publications. . .
The author thinks and writes strongly
on the problems which we class as "un-
pleasant," but the treatment is sane
and wholesome. — Springfield Union.
A love story with all the elements to
suit either the young dream, or the
dream that once was young. — N. Y.
World.
Joyful is a fine example of unspoiled
yet properly sophisticated young
womanhood. . . The author has written
nothing so indicative of a prominent
place among our fictionists since she
first came upon us in "The Mountain
Girl" and "When the Gates Lift Up
Their Heads. — St. Louis Globe-Demo-
crat.
I take pleasure in recommending the
book to all lovers of serious, obvious
fiction, punctuated with plenty of arti-
ficial thrills. — James L. Ford in the
New York Herald.
The elements which Mrs. Erskine
combined skillfully to make a "best
seller" in "The Mountain Girl" are all
present in this new story. — Phila. Press.
One of the best books written in a
long time. . .It is refreshing from be-
ginning to end and full of life. — Brooklyn
Eagle.
182
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Little, Brown & Co. have set the pace
for 1913 with 'a novel that may well
hold the lead indefinitely. — "Joyful
Heatherby" by Payne Erskine . Those
who exhausted complimentary terms in
praise of Cassandra in Mrs. Erskine's
"Mountain Girl" will be at a loss what
to say of her dear young heroine of the
Massachusetts fishing village who has
the title role in this charming romance.
The artist, Mark Thorn, is a complex
and strong study. . .but for the hold
Joyful has on our hearts from the
earliest chapters, it would be a wonder
to the reader that Mark is not at the
feet of her fascination. — Hartford Cour-
ant.
The -book has quaint humor, much
tenderness, much sincere sentiment. . .
a fine quality of reality. . . The novel
is in fine contrast to the crisp, dramatic,
objective novels which are much the
fashion. — Chicago Tribune.
A girl with whom you are liable to
fall in love with yourself. — Pittsburgh
Gazette Times.
This is a splendid novel. The plot is
unusual and the leading characters are
lovable and good. The book has a
strength and charm that makes it an
appealing love story.— Detroit News
Tribune.
Joyful is as charming a heroine as has
been depicted in fiction in many a day.
There are several specially strong chap-
ters in the book, and the ending is,
unlike much of the fiction of the day. —
Brooklyn Eagle.
"Joyful Heatherby" is the sweetest
little maid that ever looked out from
the pages of a novel. — Philadelphia
Record.
The book is the most interesting that
this author of "The Mountain Girl"
has yet written. — San Francisco Chron-
icle.
The heroine is a particularly beautiful
ennobling creation. — Joseph M. Quentin
in the Oregonian.
This is one of Payne Erskine's very
best efforts. — Phila. Public-Ledger.
It is a very human story vibrant with
the life of the small country town or
village. — Hartford Post.
The title itself, is an inspiration. —
Worch ester Gazette.
A wonderful tale. . .it stirs one's
emotions deeply while it delights with
its unusual plot and masterly character
drawing. — Ithaca Journal.
The author of "The Mountain Girl"
provides another love story as tender
and genuine as its predecessor. . . The
incidents appeal to the lover of romance,
and few novels have had a more inno-
cent and winsome girl as heroine. —
Detroit Free Press.
There was never a more finely drawn
character in fiction than Joyful Hearth-
erby. . . a masterful work of fiction. —
Grand Rapids Herald.
"Joyful Heatherby" is in some re-
spects an advancement on "The Moun-
tain Girl," that is saying a good deal.
Were it the equal of that story it would
be good enough, far ahead of novels as
novels now go. It is a pleasure, full of
life and joy and there is in it enough to
satisfy those who love the unusual. —
Knickerbocker Press, Albany.
On and Off, or The Man who Waited
By Frances Petway Willard (Mrs.A.Calhoun Hook)
(Advance Notice)
It is a Southern love story, giving
fascinating incidents of home life on
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
183
the plantation, peculiar to the later
days of the reconstruction regime.
The story deals with both church and
state. The principal characters being a
wealthy Colonel and a pretty young
country girl.
Perhaps no other author of today,
has had so wide experience of this par-
ticular life, or could handle the subject
in the unique fashion so peculiar to the
people of the early seventies, as is
noticed in the technique of, "On and
Off."
Bound in cloth, decorative covers,
12mo., printed on high-grade paper.
By mail, to any address on receipt of
price, $1.00.— The Roxburgh Publish-
ing Company, Boston.
"Narure fits all her children w;ith something to do."
"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's heaven for?"
"Oh, the lovely fickleness of an April day."
184 SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
POLICEMAN McCartney
(Contributed.)
"I'm the b'y of the strate
That's most happy an' nate,
Wid me clothe a foine fit, though I'm porrtly.
As I walk on my bate
It's the gurrels that are swate,
For they tell me me airre is quite courtly.
Watch^me a walkin' up an' down the strate, —
Women a smoilin' all along me bate, —
Oh! but me heart's big,— an' so arre me fate!
I'm the policeman McCartney."
"I've a stick up me slave
I would have ye belave
Is as good as a black thorn shilaly;
An' I cracked wid that same
A man's skull, an' his name
Is borne by the widdy Mulhaley.
Hold up yer horrses an' let the ladies pass.
Aw quit yer swearin' an' givin back yer sass.
I'm kapin' orrder, me buttons arre of brass,—
I'm the policeman McCartney."
"From a spalpeen blackin' boots
To arristin of the coots
Is the road I've been takin' just lately;
An' I'll ind at the top.
For McCartney's the cop
To git there, an' win out complately.
Bootblack — policeman — alderman — all, —
Councilman — head boss of Tammany Hall —
Then to be mayor — That is me call —
For I'm the policeman McCartney."
" I've a very good oye.
An' I tell ye me b'y
I've a thrick that worrks bether than vi'lence.
When a million heir's dhrunk,
Sure he'll down wid the plunk
If ye tip 'im a wink for yer silence.
An' whin he's on the avenoo, a spadin av his carr.
It's well to make bluster for the honor of yer starr,
But kape yer distance nately, till he's gone a bit too farr
To arrist 'im," says p'liceman McCartney.
" But whin he is too grane
To percieve just what ye mane
Thin arrist 'im, an' learn 'im his dooty;
For it's gittin of the tin ■
As '11 take ye in to win.
An' no one '11 moind of it's soity.
Thin out wid yer bill bhoys an make a gran' show,
But don't go too farr bhoys, nor tell 'em all ye know,
An' kape the women's confidences. It's they can make ye blow,
As I'm the policeman McCartney."
"Whin the gurrls like hummin' burrds
Come a pilin' ye wid wurrds
About reforms, an' th' City's good — be aisy;
Kape as solmn as an owl.
An' promise thim yer sowl,
Or the women an' the gurrls '11 dhri^e ye crazy;
For th' waker sex is strongest. They'll make ye suffer loss.
Unless ye pull together an' gather round th' boss,
Raymimbering that politicks' a game o' pitch an' toss,
An' it's money in yer pockets to back th' winnin' hoss, —
So niver moind yer promises, but stand up for th' boss,—
An' Tammany- —
Says policeman McCartney.
S K Y- L AN D
STORIES OF PICTURESQUE NORTH CAROLINA
The People's Magazine
Volume 2
JUNE, 1915
Number 3
Entered as Second-Class
Matter
at the postoffice at
Act of March 3, 1879
Winston-Salem,
N. C, Under the
MAE LUCILE
SMITH
Editor and Owner
Published Every Month
Sent by Mail, One Year — One Dollar
Single Copies Fifteen Cents
ADVISORY BOARD
Locke Craig Governor of North Carolina
Josephus Daniels — — ....Secretary of the Navy
Lee S. Overman United States Senator
F. M. Simmons United States Senator
Joseph Hyde Pratt.. State Geologist.
W. A. Erwin, President Durham Cotton Manufacturing Company Durham, N. C.
Julian S. Carr, Manufacturer and Banker ..Durham, N. C.
J. Harper Erwin, Secretary and Treasurer Pearl Cotton Mills Durham, N. C.
J. C. Pritchard Judge United States Circuit Court of Appeals
S. B. Tanner, President Henrietta and Carolene Mills Charlotte, N. C.
John E. Ennis, M. D St. Petersburg, Fla.
R. M. WiLLCOX.. President Greater Hendersonville Club, Hendersonville, N. C.
R. R. Haynes President The Cliffside Mills, Cliffside, N. C.
W. A. Smith President Laurel Park Electric Railway, Hendersonville, N. C.
L. L. Jenkins President American National Bank, Asheville, N. C.
F. E. Durfee President Citizens Bank, Hendersonville, N. C.
B. Jackson ...President The People's National Bank, Hendersonville, N. C.
The cover pageJand^'entire contents of this Magazine are protected by copyright, and
must not be reprinted without the publisher's permission.
CX3^<
jforetoorti
Co <lEbtoarb fibber OBraljam
a3nti guarli tfjee, notile moulber of poung mtntig.
Ji^ap fcDisibom from on ttgt) comtiine toit!) ttjine
Co fjoltr tlje truti) anti rtgfjt, anb error gljwn;
Co fjelp tlje toeafe, to leab lt)e carelegg anb to teacf)
Cfjp strong tohi besit tfjeir pofcoersi to use
Jfor pure, unsielfisii) enbg anb aims ntosit fjigf).
k
Wt fenofco tfjp toortf), ttp calm, unflinching ga^e
l©f)ict) loofesf Ujitl) equal epe into tfje Ijeart of tljings!
Bnb mibgt conflicting \iit\3)i bisicernsi tfje trutf);
Wt fenott) ttp £Jtrengtl) to feeep tljp course aright,
iFearleag of barriers! grim tfjat block tlje toap,
l^nsftoerbeb to rigtt or left bp boices falsie:
OBob guarb tfjee, fa^bioner of countlesis; soulsi,
Hnb map carb one of tbesfe to tnl^om tljou gib'sit
a^l tbine oton sif If a bital gparfe be animate
It^itlj ttp btgb purpose anb, returning bjljence
Cfjep came, leaben tfje race anb all goob tfjinga
increasfe.
— Uatorence ^. tolt, 31r.
^1^
r^
SKY- LAN D
STORIES OF PICTURESQUE NORTH CAROLINA
The People's Magazine
Volume 2 JUNE, 1915 Number 3
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
Foreword — To Edward Kidder Graham Lawrence S. Holt, Jr. 10
Frontispiece ..^ - Mrs. William N. Reynolds 12
EDITORIAL COMMENT
Level-Headed Legislators -... „ .— 189
The Textile Industry Historically 189
Labor Troubles .— . 190
More Recent Troubles 190
"The World Do Move" ...:.... :_..:_ ^ 191
"The Empire State of the South" 192
The State of Resorts 193
A Business Governor 194
Large Ruby Deposits 194
The Center of the State.. 195
Col. A. B. Andrews 195
To SKY-LAND Readers 196
Ah! Dreaming Violets — Poem . R. E. Walker 196
SPECIAL ARTICLES
Slighting Southern History and Literature C. W. Lively 197
The New North State Archib.\ld Henderson 212
Looking In On Thomas Dixon ..Mrs. O. Barg.a.min Crocker 219
IN NORTH CAROLINA'S CALCIUM LIGHT
Mrs. William N. Reynolds 221
Edward Kidder Graham— R. E. F., '98. :. 224
FICTION
The Diamond Crop and The Wedding Bells Charles Anderson 227
Spring — A Poem J. Robin Aglee 229
Cats and Soforth By Dred Vaux 230
The Soul of Adam— A Play— Act II .....Hillard Booth 236
INDUSTRIAL SECTION
Alamance County in Industrial North Carolina 243
Graham — The Ideal 261
Some Interesting Products of Child Labor 271
Bigger, Better Burlington : 275
RESORT ARTICLES
Carolina Beach — -The Golden Resort 278
MRS. WILLIAM N. REYNOLDS,
Retiring North Carolina State Regent of the Daughters of the American Revolution.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
189
EDITORIAL COMMENT
By R. E. W.
Level-headed Legislators.
WHEN the sensationalist and the
p' demagogue hold forth in the
legislative halls of a people, ignorance
and prejudice are the two legislative
disqualifications that yield to them most
readily their desired end and often-
times burden a State with unwise laws.
Certain it is though that, in the case of
the Weaver Bill, the legislators of North
Carolina in the last session of the Gen-
eral Assembly showed themselves to be
actuated by neither ignorance nor pre-
judice and to be remarkably free from
the influence of those who would cripple
the industries of the State. Certain
labor sensationalists may charge ig-
norance. But if ignorance be the case,
in their ignorance the legislators were
wise in refusing to be bunglers and in
refusing to accept as final evidence of
needed legislation the representations
of well meaning sensationalists and those
of the hirelings of an organization whose
patron saint is said to be vitally inter-
ested in some twenty Northern manu-
facturing enterprises.
That the Weaver Bill was given much
publicity was quite natural in view of
the fact that it lent itself easily to sen-
sational comment and afforded the
opportunity for much rhetorical well-
doing. And that it touched and rallied
the hearts of the public is not strange
when one considers that in this day and
time the public is easily moved to tears
by tales of suffering and oppression
provided the alleged unfortunate be not
near enough to receive material aid.
That amidst it all the legislators sat
steady in the boat and calmly considered
the provisions of the bill in the light of
present conditions and future posibili-
ties, we should be thankful.
For the Southern cotton manufacturer
the days of tremendous dividends are no
more. Time was when they were large.
But year by year they have dwindled.
They have been reduced greatly by the
increased cost of the raw material ; they
have been reduced by the increase in
wages paid the operatives; they have
been reduced by increased taxation;
they have been reduced by legislative
curtailment of the hours per week that
he may operate his plant; they have been
reduced by competition — to say noth-
ing of reductions caused in other ways.
That large dividends were declared in
the past and that great fortunes have
been accumulated in the textile industry
is no occasion for revenge. Retalia-
tory legislation is never wise. And
during these days when the sensationa-
list and the demagogue seek public
preferment by declaiming against the
cotton manufacturing industry and other
large enterprises as well, that man who
calmly sits at his desk with facts and
figures before him and lends his in-
fluence towards securing legislation that
will preserve and increase the wealth of
his State, with due consideration for
humanity, is great. He is on the short-
est road to Utopia.
The Textile Industry Historically.
TTISTORICALLY the manufacture
-'--'- of cotton goods in North Caro-
lina is exceedingly interesting. It began
with the late Edwin M. Holt, who built
190
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the old Alamance Mill in 1837 and manu-
factured cotton plaids. The industry
received its greatest impetus some years
after the Civil War; and today it has
reached enormous proportions.
During the almost magical develop-
ment of the industry in North Carolina
through the past several decades, textile
manufacturers have until quite recently
paid little or no attention to publicity
regarding the condition of their opera-
tives. Indeed, they have hardly had
the time to do so, so busily have they
been occupied in building up the State's
great manufacturing industry. Neither
did it occur to them that such publicity
would be necessary in a State where
every man was concerned with retriev-
ing his fortunes and with upbuilding
his unfortunate State.
So the textile industry grew to its
present proportions (employing over
sixty-four thousand operatives and vital-
ly affecting over one hundred seventy-
seven thousand, five hundred and sixty-
four persons) without the manufacturers
troubling themselves about letting their
left hand know what their right hand
was doing. And they prospered, as all
men do who apply themselves to a
business with possibilities.
Labor Troubles.
TI) UT the textile sea was not to be for-
-'-^ ever calm. Some years ago, a
fairly long time ago now, there appeared
at several mills throughout the State
labor union representatives. These peo-
ple came, presumably from the North.
They were pleasing of manner and oily
of speech. With their gifts of picturing
to the mill operatives the terrible condi-
tions under which they were working
(but which the|^ operatives were never
quite able to comprehend) and with
their glowing tales of the benefits of
organization, they succeeded in es-
tablishing several unions throughout
the State.
Here and there strikes were ordered
on this alleged grievance or that. Ow-
ing either to the satisfaction of the
operatives with things as they were or
to their lack of the sense of organized
action, this effort to injure the manu-
facturing interest of the State turned out
to be little more than a fiasco. And
from that day to this the operatives have
been loyal to their mills.
These troubles served, however, in
many instances to interrupt the friendly,
cordial relations between employer and
employed and to place a distance be-
tween those who had hitherto had a
community of interests. One of the
State's oldest and most successful man-
ufacturers recently spoke of this phase
of the matter to me in terms which
showed him to be sincerely and deeply
grieved that the relations of former days
should have been strained and that the
employes had come more and more to
be known by the pay roll rather than
by name.
More Recent Troubles
T~^URING recent years the textile
-"— ^ manufacturer has encountered the
labor agitator in this State under another
guise. He now appears as the agent of
the National Child Labor Committee,
whose paid agent in this State is one
Swift of Greensboro, and as sentimen-
talists who agitate in various w^ays the
public thought. The avowed business
of these men is to alleviate the condition
of the mill operative. They ignore the
direct method of personal effort among
the employes and their families and seek
to aid them by securing legislation
which would curtail their income, which,
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
191
those seeking to help them claim, is al-
ready too small.
To accomplish this end, bitter and
persistent warfare is waged against the
manufacturer. He is represented al-
ways in his worst light, if not in a false
light. The poorest and most unfor-
tunate among his operatives are photo-
graphed, the malcontents among them
are interviewed and the photographs and
the interviews are scattered abroad as
representing the conditions that pre-
vail. Some notable examples of child
labor that have been overlooked by Mr.
Swift and his sympathizers will be found
in another part of this magazine. The
story will be interesting.
"The World Do Move"
TT IS doubtful whether so much has
-■- been done for any class of people dur-
ing the last thirty years as for the mill
operative. The mill men were among
the first to recognize the principles of
sanitation and to build and equip their
plants along the most modern and
approved lines. To be sure, the old
mills and the old tenements do not meet
the requirements of the modern idea of
things. They were built according to
the knowledge and ideas of their time;
and so were built the stores, the resi-
dences of the cities and the farm houses
of those days.
But just as new residences and farm
houses are being built according to the
latest and most approved designs, so are
the mills of today. For an idea of what
the condition of the cotton mill opera-
tive is coming to be, do not visit a mill
that has been running for thirty years
and that is nearing the end of its life
unless new machinery is installed and
better provisions are made for the opera-
tives. Visit one of the modern plants.
Note the high ceilings, the systems of
ventilation, the water supply, the wel-
fare work that is being done by the com-
panies. A study of the growth of the
textile business in this State will reveal
a remarkable tendency towards improve-
ment in all things that concern the
operative.
Were these manufacturers forced into
these things by law? Hardly. These
things are the results of education.
Through the years that have been pass-
ing, the manufacturer has learned, just
as the farmer, the merchant and other
men, what will build up his business and
what will not. He has learned that it is
economy to conserve the health of his
operatives, to educate them, to develop
their social life, to make their lives not
only tolerable, but happy. The modern
manufacturer wants an educated, pros-
perous, happy, contented people. He
must have such a people to secure the
best results. And more and more he
will come to develop such a people purely
from a business standpoint, if not from
a religious. And there is no amount of
legislation that can contribute one iota
of what the manufacturers themsleves
can and do contribute towards the
development of their people.
This is not the case in some of the older
mills. No one will deny that in some
instances conditions are not what they
should be. But will shorter hours
remedy the situation? In all probabil-
ity they would simply hasten the day of
receivership and leave the operatives in a
state worse than their first. Then too,
the development of the human being is
slow. No one but God can make of him
a new creature in an instant. So the
process must be one of evolution. And
religious sentiment and keen business
perception in the heart and head of the
manufactuerr are doing for the mill
operative a hundredfold more than all:
192
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the agitators, who are harrassing the
manufacturers, poisoning the mind of
the public against the State's greatest
manufacturing industry and placing the
mill operative in a false light before the
public.
"The Empire State of the South"
SOUTH of us lies the largest State
east of the Mississippi, Georgia.
In point of the production of cotton,
Georgia stands second and takes first
place in general lines of manufacture.
To this "Empire State of the South"
the nation and the world owes much.
Georgia was the pioneer in the education
of women, the first female college having
been established at Macon. And it was
from the hands of Georgia that the
world received the cotton gin and the
sewing machine, two of mankind's great-
est inventions.
Georgia is rich in natural resources.
It is a State of quarries, mineral deposits,
gardens, orchards, fields of yellow corn
and snowy cotton. Many streams place
at the disposal of industry an almost
inconceivable number of horsepower.
More than twenty million dollars has
already been expended in the develop-
ment of this enormous source of wealth.
Early the people of the State saw the
possibilities in the manufacture of cotton
and led the South in this industry by
establishing a mill as far back as 1827,
the Georgia Factory, at Whitehall.
Nine years afterwards the Princeton
Manufacturing Company came into
existence near Athens. Eight years
from that time a factory was completed
at High Shoals. In 1850 there were
thirty-five cotton mills in Georgia.
The industry along with everything
else was paralyzed by the Civil War.
But some years after its close a new
impetus was given the textile][business
and the manufacture of cotton goods
went forward by leaps and bounds.
Today there are more than one hun-
dred and forty-five cotton mills in the
State, with a combined annual output
valued at forty-five million dollars.
It is significant too that during the
years of this remarkable development
and growth of their industry, the tex-
tile manufacturers of Georgia have here
and there, and in ever increasing num-
bers, been turning their attention toward
the improvement of the condition of
their people. Georgia was among the
first if not the leader in welfare work.
We find that as early as 1845 the Put-
nam Manufacturing Company near
Etatonton had built a church and a
school house and that in the latter both
day and night classes were conducted for
the operatives. In this school the Bible
had a conspicuous place.
There has been among Georgia manu-
facturers a general spreading of the
sense of obligation to their employes;
and today welfare work has a large place
in their activities. It is understood
that the North Highlands School at
Columbus is in session the year round
with day and night classes. It is
equipped with kindergarten for the little
children and with a manual training shop
for the boys. Also, the school is equipp-
ed with shower baths, gynmasium,
swings and joggling boards. - The work
at these schools, that at LaGrange and
that in the textile department of the
Georgia School of Technology offers
unusual advantages to boys of ambition.
Last year Georgia was afflicted with
the demoralizing work of the I. W. W,
They pitched their tents near the fac-
tories of the Fulton Bag and Cotton
Company and day by day poured their
venom into the ears of peaceful, happy
employes. In due course of time came
the usual strike. Marion Jackson and
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
193
others, being stirred by the sight of the
marching strikers and seeing an oppor-
tunity for some sensational rhetoric and
verbal well-doing, took up their pens
against the company.
Nothing was left undone to turn the
tide of popular opinion against the
Fulton Bag and Cotton Company.
Mass meetings were held at which sen-
sational speakers waged windy, wordy
warfare against the manufacturers in
behalf of the striking operatives. Daily
semi-religious, yellow bulletins appeared
in the papers, set in large, scare type and
signed by the executive committee of the
Men and Religion Forward Movement.
There was never a more determined
effort to discredit a large manufacturing
interest and to increase the distance
between employer and employed. Yet
the cry of these sensationalists was
"Unite."
Recently I was in one of the cotton
mills of this State talking to a foreman.
I pulled some letters out of my pocket
and among them happened to be one
from Mr. Oscar Elsas, president of the
Fulton Bag and Cotton Mills. The
man with whom I was talking smiled
when he saw the envelope. "I worked
for those people," he said. "What do
you think of them," I asked. "Finest
people I ever saw, " he replied. "Never
saw people better to their help. "
It is also true that, while the tents of
the I. W. W. were pitched over against
the mills of the Fulton Bag and Cotton
Company, just over the way could be
seen the attractive welfare buildings
where the company had been spending
large sums of money in educating their
employes and in bettering their social
life. Hardly is it necessary to say that
individual improvement and advance-
ment lie before the mill operative today
if he will avail himself of his opportuni-
ties. And neither is it necessary to say
that the man who serves him is the man
who points out the way to success
and not the man who fills him with dis-
content and hatred towards his employ-
er.
The State of Resorts.
NORTH CAROLINA is pre-eminent-
ly the State of resorts. They are
strung out all along the coast. In
the mountains of the State they are
almost without number. And here and
there in almost every section of the Old
North State they will be found. Only a
few more weeks and these popular places
of rest. and recreation will throw open
their doors to the public. Hundreds
and thousands of people, not only from
this State, but from all parts of the
country, will flock to them to spend their
vacations and their summers.
There is something about the North
Carolina spirit that gets into a person,
once spending a season within her
bounds, and draws him back again.
Where is the man, woman or child who
has spent a summer in the land of the
balsam and the long-leaf pine and who
has no desire to return? They all come
back and bring their friends, who have
become enchanted with their stories
and praises of the "land of liberty and
love. "
What charm thus works upon the
natives of the State to make them love
it better than any land on earth and that
makes the visitor wish to return, our
poets have never told us. Whatever
it is it dwells in the State from one end to
the other. May it not be the wildness
of the waves of Hatteras, the calm of the
Blue Ridge, the song of the pines, the
shade of the oaks and the elms, the blush
of the apple and the peach, the rolling
of the hills, the stretching of the plains,
the blowing of the grain, the singing of
194
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the streams, the beauty of the girls and
women, the chivalry of the men and
hospitality of the whole people blending
into one powerful, pleasing, heart and
soul satisfying influence? Be that as
it may, they will come again this year.
And they will be happy. We welcome
them.
A Business Governor.
NORTH CAROLINA'S biggest busi-
ness is North Carolina. All other
enterprises in the State are comprehend-
ed within the State and the conducting
of its business. Yet there will be found
at the head of no business a man except
one of long, thorough training. Where-
in then lies the business shrewdness of
placing the gubernatorial powers in the
hands of a man whose life has been given
over to splitting legal hairs and winning
popular notice through press and public
speeches? Do these things qualify a
man for the governorship of North Caro-
lina? They may develop a man into a
politician. And the degree of his great-
ness is in direct ratio to his ability to
utter the greatest number of words with-
out saying anything and to do the
greatest number of things without
accomplishing anything. Is this the
most desirable type of man to place at
the head of the affairs of the State?
Would it not be better, wiser to place
in the Governor's Mansion at the next
election a business man rather than a
politician? Would the State not fare
better under the administration of a man
of farsighted business acumen than under
that of a machine-building politician?
And the logical business man for the
place is General Julian S. Carr.
General Carr is one of the builders of
North Carolina. He has always been
deeply interested in the development of
his State along all lines. He is a friend
of education, a friend of the poor, a
friend of the prisoner — for whom he
desires more humane treatment — he is
the friend of every movement for the
betterment and upbuilding of the State
and with it all he is a successful business
man. The whisperings of policy and
expediency, as they might affect his
personal career, would fall upon deaf
ears; and General Carr would give to
North Carolina what she has so long
needed — a business administration.
He has served his State well in war and
in peace. He is an able, honored son
today. And his mother has no other to
whom she may point with greater pride
or upon whom she may lean in greater
security.
Large Ruby Deposits.
HAT is said to be the largest
ruby-garnet, rhodolite deposit in
the world is that found at the Great
Ruby Mines Camp of Col. S. A. Jones
in Jackson county, North Carolina.
Expert engineers have stated in their
reports that these mines have a deposit
that will turn out over forty million tons
of one hundred per cent pure high-class
abrasive material.
Colonel Jones is in possession of con-
tracts upon which he would now be de-
livering one thousand tons per annum of
abrasive material to Germany alone had
it not been for the outbreak of the
present war. For twenty-one years he
has struggled to develop these great
deposits and plans are now on foot for
the installing of improved machinery
that will enable him to compete success-
fully with foreign producers and with
the manufacturers .of carborundum at
Niagara.
Col. Jones and his associate, Mr. I. L.
Council, who control these deposits of
abrasive ores, are organizing a new
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
195
company to develop the mines on a
large scale and expect before the end of
the year to be employing over five
hundred men. It is their hope that
by the last of August they will be turning
out material at the rate of five thousand
tons per annum. The opening of these
mines will mean great things for North
Carolina and will bring into the western
part of the State a new stream of wealth.
^•
The Center of the State.
IN a very vital sense Chapel Hill is
today the hub of North Carolina.
Time was when the State reolved
around the Capitol City. With the
coming of Edward Kidder Graham into
the life and consciousness of the Old
North State, the center of things has
shifted to the State University.
The influence of that institution today
reaches into and affects every section of
the State in a manner other than through
its alumni. Through its extension work
the people of the State feel the power-
ful pulse beats of the institution's
strong, steady, life-giving heart. The
lamps of knowledge lighted and kept
burning there no longer await the coming
of the students. Out into even the
remotest corners of the State they fling
their enlightening rays, and thousands
are walking in a greater light.
Thanks to President Graham for this.
North Carolina is exceedingly fortunate
in having a University President whose
brain has not been lured from the ways
of men by the ignis fatuus of mysticism
and speculation. Dr. Graham has sur-
vived the temptation of distance and the
siren luring of the Unknowable — things
which beset the mental pathway of
every intellectual pilgrim. He has kept
himself close to life; and all his visions
and dreams have been related to the
life of mankind in a practical way — best
of all, to the lives of the people of his
State. And as the years go by, North
Carolinians will come to appreciate
more and more the greatness of Ed-
ward Kidder Graham.
Col. A. B. Andrews.
QUINCE the printing of our last issue
^^ there has passed from our midst
one of the empire builders of the South.
With the death of Col. A. B. Andrews
North Carolina sustains the loss of
one of her greatest sons. So long had
he been with us and so accustomed had
we become to his great achievements that
we hardly realized their significance.
But verily this man was a Titan.
Born a Tar Heel more than seventy-
one years ago, Colonel Andrews devoted
practically his entire life to his native
State, for which he had a passionate
love. Loyalty to North Carolina and a
passion for upbuilding and furthering
her every interest were great motives in
his long, useful life. And today the
entire State, and the western part of
it in particular, owes to the memory of
Colonel Andrews an ever enduring
gratitude.
Entering the Conferderate army as a
lieutenant. Colonel Andrews rendered
his State and the Confederacy brave,
loyal service and came out of the war
with the rank of captain. After the war
he engaged in railroad work and became
superintendent of the Raleigh and Gas-
ton Railway in 1869. This road be-
came a part of the Seaboard Air Line and
Colonel Andrews afterwards occupied
important positions with a number of
roads in this State and Georgia. He
became third vice-president of the
Richmond and Danville road in 1892;
and when this road became the Southern,
196
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
he was made first vice-president of that
road, which position he held until his
death. During his term of service as
first vice-president of the Southern, the
privilege of taking the presidency of
the road was his; but he declined,
choosing rather to remain in North Caro-
lina, the State which he had helped to
build.
Colonel Andrews was also president
of a number of smaller roads in the
State, which developed under his direct-
ing genius. His greatest service to the
State, however, was the building of the
Western North Carolina railroad across
the Blue Ridge. Through his untiring
energy, enthusiasm and indomitable
will this great enterprise was pushed to
completion in the face of almost insur-
mountable dif^culties; and Western
North Carolina with its resources and its
beauty was transformed almost as if by
magic. This work will ever stand as a
monument to the great man North
Carolina now mourns and as an example
of what courage and perseverance may
accomplish.
To SKY-LAND Readers.
THE management of SKY-LAND
MAGAZINE regrets exceedingly
that no May issue of the ' publication
appeared. Special effort will be made
to prevent a similar occurrence; and all
subscriptions will be continued one
month longer that subscribers may
receive their full number of magazines.
-SI-
VIOLETS
By R. E. Walker
Ah! dreaming little violets,
A cluster of blue eyes.
When I behold your loveliness.
What memories arise!
Again she looks into my soul
With tender, wondering eyes.
That caught their softness from the clouds.
Their blueness from the skies.
Again her languid lashes droop.
Her tinted eyelids close;
And in her cheeks there reappear
The blushes of the rose.
Again the perfume of her breath
Like incense from above!
Again her kiss and her caress
And whispers of her love!
Again her sacred bosom's heaving.
Her head upon my breast ;
Again those silent moments when
Our tired hearts found their rest.
And O! sweet violets, bear to her
My heart's own wildest love
With all its dreams more tender than
The heart-thoughts of the dove!
And in her presence offer there
The Great Perfumer's art,
An incense rising to her from
The censor of my heart.
And O! sweet violets, on the breast
Of her who keeps my heart,
With all thy magic plead for me.
Tell her we must not part.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
197
SLIGHTING SOUTHERN HISTORY
AND LITERATURE
BY C. W. LIVELY
THE Literary Digest of May 31, 1913,
summarized certain articles under
the heading "Slighting Southern Litera-
ture, " which had appeared earlier in
May in the New York Times. Mrs. Leigh
of Alabama, in one of the articles had
condemmed the textbooks on history and
literature as being unfair to the South.
She especially condemned the textbook
of Brander Matthews on American
literature and claimed by way of com-
parison a place for several Southern
writers equal to that given the leaders
of the North. An anonymous writer
replied to her in the Times and defended
the textbooks. He made the usual
Northern claims that Southern intellect
was turned away from art, science, and
literature and into law and politics by
slavery, and that Southern authors were,
when compared with those of the North,
I "surprisingly imitative. "
I shall attempt to show that the Old
South has not been treated with fairness
by the Northern textbooks on history;
that she did her full part in education,
religion, science, and art; and that
slavery did not hinder any kind of
intellectual development at the South;
and that the average Northern text
writer on American literature is exceed-
ingly ignorant, or he is almost insolent
in his unfair treatment of Southern
literature.
The anonymous writer of the Times
clearly shows his ignorance of Southern
Hfe and literature, as well as his egotism,
when he refers to what he calls Mrs.
Leigh's "extravagant assertions" as
being "a lurid reflection of milder
claims to the same effect ... by
other Southerners." I am satisfied
that the leading scholars, authors, and
historians of the South are as capable of
forming correct estimates of her people,
their history and literature, as Barrett
Wendell, Stedman, Matthews, the anony-
mous writer of the Times, or any other
person at the North. But I shall cite
evidence in support of my claims from
Boston, where they tell God how to do
things, and from New York.
The average Northern text writer on
history and literature aims to bring
reproach on the early settlers of James-
town by calling them "adventurers,"
"profligate sons of the nobility," etc.,
while the Puritans and Pilgrims are
worshiped as gods and goddesses. If
the Pilgrims were so great and so much
under the control and guidance of the
Almighty, why did they not come to
America at the time the Virginia "adven-
turers" came? They went to Holland
instead. Some of the Pilgrim faith did
go to Maine about that time, but soon
returned because of the hardships en-
dured. After the Virginia "adventur-
ers" had founded a new nation, erected
twin altars to learning and to God,
made permanent homes, established
representative government, explored and
mapped out New England, after they
had sent back to the mother country
glowing accounts of their happiness and
prosperity, and after Dutch neighbors of
the Pilgrims in Holland had settled in
New York and the French had settled in
Canada, the Pilgrims came to settle
near their Dutch neighbors in New York.
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Regardless of what history says, I am
of the opinion that it took as brave,
noble, and as virtuous, if not more
determined, men to make the first
permanent settlement at Jamestown as
the Pilgrims and Puritans who later came
to New England. John Smith, Percy,
Strachey, Sandys, Hunt, Bucke, Thorpe,
Whitaker, the "apostle of Virginia,"
and their associates deserve as much
admiration and praise as the leaders of
the Pilgrims and Puritans. Because
many of the early settlers at Jamestown
died of disease contracted in the forests
and swamps and of starvation, the
textbooks charge it to their imcompe-
tency; but the large number of deaths
among the Pilgrims is laid to the in-
hospitable climate and treachery of the
Indians.
These textbooks call the stories of
Smith and Pocahontas, the Mecklen-
burg Declaration, and others at the
South mythical; but the stories of
Plymouth Rock, the Charter Oak,
Revere's Ride, and others of New
England, which are heralded as facts,
are at least as doubtful. They tell of
the Boston Tea Party, but fail to men-
tion the tea that was sent to the Southern
ports. A street brawl, which John
Adams and Josiah Quincy defended and
justified, is given much space in the
textbooks as the Boston Massacre;
but the battles of Alamance, Point
Pleasant, Moore's Creek, and other
important events at the South leading up
to the Revolution are not mentioned.
Warren and Hale, New England patriots
are given their well-earned praise; but
Isaac Hayne and John Laurens, of the
South, are forgotten. The aid given the
partiot cause by Robert Morris is
chronicled, but that given by Nelson
and Page, of Virginia, and Ralph Izard,
of South Carolina, is not. Hayne,
Calhoun, and South Carolina are al-
ways condemned for threatening nulli-
fication in 1832; but these textbooks
find no room to condemn such treason-
able and unconstitutional acts at the
North as the Faneuil Hall noninter-
course resolutions, Essex Juntos, "blue
lights", Hartford conventions, and
personal liberty laws. Without reading
the speech of R. Y. Hayne, the text-
books tell us that he was "demolished"
by Webster in the great debate. How-
ever, John Q. Adams said, "Webster
left his argument hanging on a broken
hinge," and the Phildelphia Express
stated what was probably the majority
opinion of Americans at that time when
it said: "I do not think Mr Hayne,
completely overthrew Mr. Webster, but
I am decidedly of the opinion that Mr.
Webster did not overthorw Mr. Hayne. "
It has been the textbooks which have
overthrown Mr. Hayne. Old John
Brown is still looked upon by many
Northern text writers as a saint and
martyr, while John . Wilkes Booth is
classed with Satan. Both of these men
are and always have been looked upon
by the people of the South as criminals
of the same class. Both were guilty of
murder, and Brown was guilty of treason.
The same kind of motive impelled both
of them to their criminal acts.
The South is condemned for trying to
destroy the Union in 1861. There was
no real union when the South seceded.
The religious and political ties which
bind nations together had already been
broken by the North. The personal
liberty laws of the Northern States had
annulled the Constitution and Acts of
Congress. To the abolitionists the
Constitution was a "covenant with death
and a league with hell," because it rec-
ognized and protected slavery.
Many at the North said the Union
was not worth preserving in connec-
tion with the South and slaverv, and
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
199
urged the Northern States to secede.
The South stood by the Union, the
Constitution, and the laws of the
country for forty years amid all of this
discord, clamor, and confusion, and
finally sought peace and independence.
Though the provocation was a hundred
times as great, the right was denied in
1861 just as it was denied in 1776.
The textbooks condemn the South
because it is claimed that the people
were "aristocratic." But Capt. John
Smith, Nathaniel Bacon, Oglethorpe,
Patrick Henery, Jefferson, Mason, Gads-
den, Marion, Houston, Andrew Jackson,
Lowndes, Nathanial Macon, and their
followers at the South were certainly
more democratic than William Bradford,
Winthrop, the Mathers, Hamilton, Jay,
Adams, Pickering, Cabott, Ames, Web-
ster, Sumner, and their followers at the
North. Aristocrats as well as monarch-
ists, in a governmental sense, believe
in the centralization of the powers of
government. This centralization was
opposed by the South, while the North
generally and New England especially
have been its main defenders.
The textbooks complain of the lack
of progress in the Old South; but South
Carolina, with a smaller population, had
a greater assessed property valuation in
1860 than Massachusetts. From 1791-
1813 five Eastern States exported $299,-
000,000 worth of products, products
mostly from the Southern States first
transferred and then reshipped; while
five Southern States during the same
time exported $509,000,000 worth of
products. The commerce of the South
was prosperous until the tariff acts of the
first third of the last century worked a
discrimination against the South and in
favor of the East. Was not the cry of
New England for a protective tariff
during this time really an admission
that she could no longer support her-
self without the aid of the richer South?
Did not New England thereby admit
that unless she could get government aid
she could not establish manufactories?
It was government aid and not the New
Englander's superior wealth or ability
that made her manufacturers prosper-
ous. When she first called for help,
did not the South respond nobly and
thereby agree to feed, clothe, and
support New England until she could
get a start? The "beggars," as Ran-
dolph called them, continually insisted
on the increase of the rates until South
Carolina finding herself impoverished
by the tariff, demanded the right to say
how much she could afford to give to
this government charity. The text
writers condemn Calhoun, Hayne, and
South Carolina for that and call New
England great. And, despite the con-
tinued threats of secession and nulli-
fication by New England from the
adoption of the Constitution down to
1861, she has escaped without a stain,
and all of these sins have been charged to
the South.
The textbooks, however, claim that
slavery, agriculture, and aristocracy
hindered the growth in population and
wealth of the Southern States. Slavery,
as well as the free negro, has undoubtedly
turned many of the best immigrants from
the South. But the presence of the
negro, bond and free, in the South was
more the fault of old and New England
than it was of the South. But it would
be just as fair to compare the growth of
Maine with Massachusetts or New
Hampshire with Connecticut or Maine
with Illinois as it would be to compare
Massachusetts with Carolina or Ohio
with Kentucky. Why not compare the
the growth of Canada with the United
States? Was it slavery, aristocracy,
and agriculture which caused the diff-
erence in growth in the North? The
200
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
South in 1860, with one-fifth of the
population of the country, showed
forty-five per cent of the property valua-
tion, twenty-eight per cent of the bank-
ing capital, and, with one-fourth of the
area, was producing more than one-half
of the agricultural output of the whole
country. She built twice as many miles
of railroad as all the New England and
Middle States combined, and her manu-
facturing interests showed a larger per
cent of growth than the rest of the
country for the same time. The South
was producing her own supplies of corn,
wheat, oats, and live stock; she pro-
duced nearly all of the tobacco, nearly
all of the sugar, all of the cotton, all of
the rice, and most of the fruits that were
then grown in this country. Yet the
textbooks tell us that the Southerners
were developed "only in certain narrow
grooves and that they could think in
no others." They say the farmer at
the South who produced cotton became
a narrow-minded aristocrat, but the
manufacturer of cotton in New England
became a broad-minded democrat; that
farming in the South retarded the pro-
gress of that section, while farming in the
Middle West was a great boon to pro-
gress; that men who worked fifty
servants on their farms at the South were
inferior classes of men, while those who
worked a thousand servants in the mines
and factories of the North became noble
men. There were but few large fac-
tories at the South before the war, but
nearly every home had its wheel and
loom and every community had its
shop where necessary implements were
made. The South, like New England
followed what seemed most profitable.
Let us notice what the Old South did
in the'way of art, science, and invention.
It is doubtful if Eli Whitney should be
given the sole credit for inventing the
cotton gin, as Bull, Lyons, and McCloud,
of Georgia, seem to be equally entitled
to the honor. McCormick, of Virginia,
invented the reaper and mower, though
he is rarely mentioned. M. F. Maury,
of Virginia, "furnished the brains" and
told Field how and where to lay the
Atlantic cable. Humboldt and other
great men of Europe called Maury one
of the world's leading scientists and
benefactors, but the Northern text
writers have not heard of him. James
Rumsey, of Virginia, invented the steam-
boat, and not Fulton, of the North.
ShafTner, of Virginia, Rogers, of Mary-
land, and Vail, of New Jersey, deserve
as much credit for inventing the tele-
graph as Morse, of Massachusetts. The
textbooks always tell of Ericsson and
the Monitor, but fail to tell of John M.
Brooke, of Virginia, who invented the
deep-sea sounding vessel and was the
builder of the Merrimac, the first iron-
clad battleship and which defeated the
Monitor. Jefferson invented the modern
plow. Gatling, of North Carolina,
invented the famous gatling gun.
Goulding, of Georgia, has a better
right to the honor of inventing the sew-
ing machine than Howe, of New Eng-
land, though the textbooks do not
mention him. Crawford Long, of
Georgia, was the first in the world to
use anaesthetics in surgical operations,
though the textbooks continue to give
the honor of it to Morton and Wells,
of Massachusetts. Marion Sims, of
South Carolina, and Ephriam McDowell
and Walter Reed, of Virginia, were
among the greatest physicians and
surgeons of their time. Coleridge called
Washington Allston, poet and painter of
Carolina, "the first genius produced by
the Western world. " Cooper, of South
Carolina, was called the "Father of
Political Economy in America." Ram-
sey's "History of South Carolina in the
Revolution" was the first book copy-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
201
righted in the United States. Debow,
of Louisiana, was a famous statistician
and economist. W. C. Wells, of Caro-
lina, preceded Darwin in formulating the
theory of natural selection and was the
first to announce the present accepted
theory of dew. Joseph Winlock, of
Kentucky, was among our greatest
astronomers. Thomas Godfrey, of
North Carolina, was our first dramatist;
while Stephen Elliott, Joel Poinsett,
and H. W. Ra venal were great botanists;
Shaler, of Kentucky, was our greatest
geologist; and J. E. Holbrook, of South
Carolina, was considered by Agassiz
and other scientists of Europe our
greatest biologist. Robert Mills, of
South Carolina, was the architect of the
Bunker Hill and Washington monuments
as well as many of the nation's finest
buildings. Thomas R. Dew, of Vir-
ginia, was an able sociologist. Edwin
Ruffiin, of Virginia, was a pioneer in
scientific agriculture; and Ettienne de
Bore, of Louisana, was the first in
America to manufacture sugar from
cane. America has not produced a
greater family of scientists than the
LeConte family, of Georgia; no natura-
list has equaled Audubon, of Louisiana;
while Paul Du Chaillu, of the same
State, was one of our greatest explorers
and scientists. Basil Gildersleeve and
Milton W. Humphrey, of the South,
have not been surpassed at the North as
Greek and Latin scholars. Thomas
Jefferson, W. A. Caruthers, A. D.
Murphy, Calvin H. Wiley, Crafts, Le-
gare. Meek, Dimitry, and others at the
South were equaled only by Horace
Mann, of Massachusetts, as educational
reformers. Such preachers as Waddell,
Madison, Meade, Dabney, Semple,
Thornwell, Hoge, Palmer, Robert Henry,
the Alexanders of Virginia, Manley,
Pierce, Asbury, F. L. Hawks, Dagg,
Broaddus, Jesse Mercer, Curry, William
Hopper, and many others at the South
were not surpassed by any at the North
in piety, learning, or ability. Sequoyah,
the greatest American Indian, was born
in the South, and Booker T. Washington,
the greatest man of his race, was born in
slavery at the South and educated in
Southern schools.
For the benefit of the Northern text
writers who have' claimed that the South
has not made any contrubutions to the
intellectual output of the country, it
would be well for them to examine the
birthplace and works of R. W. Gibbes,
Brantz and A. M. Mayer, William Max-
well, J. C. Nott, E. S. Holden, W. H.
Holcombe, John Allen Wyeck, Robert
Greenhow, F. P. Porcher, G. H. Miles,
L. P. Canonge, W. A. Graham, William
Mumford, Archibald Alexander, Alex-
ander Means, J. R. and O. M. Mitchell,
Peter Cartwright, Joseph and Joseph R.
Buchanan, Henery Draper, Cyrus
Thomas, J. L. Shecut, A. S. Taylor,
Gideon Lincecum, Buckingham Smith,
PhiHp Slaughter, T. P. Shaffner, J. L.
Smith, J. H. B. Latrobe, J. B. Minor,
Thomas R. Price, G. S. Bedford, S. W.
Price, Mahlon Loomis, G. H. Calvert,
J. G. McCullough, Thomas and Samuel
MuUody, Francis L. Hawks, Lorenzo
Waugh, Joseph Ray, Max Somerville,
C. P. Cranch, M. D. Conway, Devereaux
Jarratt, John H. Wheeler, Joseph Gales,
Charles Eraser, and many others.
The first American steamship to cross
the ocean was projected at and sailed
from Savannah, Ga. ; the first railroads of
the country were built in Maryland and
South Carolina. The South Carolina
railroad was the first in the world built
expressly for locomotives, the first in
America to have locomotives built for
its own use, also the first to order loco-
motives built in the community by its
own mechanics and citizens. During
the first half of the last centurv the South
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
created an agricultural industry which
represented more brain power, more
business ability, and more capital than
were required to develop the industrial
interests of New England. It not only
dominated the finance, politics, and
commerce of this country, but also
greatly influenced those of Europe.
Other names and achievements might
easily be added, but tliose given should
be sufficient to show that the reproach of
intellectual sterility urged against the
Old South does not lie so heavily as is
often thought and taught by the text-
books and other works from the North
on history and literature. The tenth
edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica,
Volume A., page 719,, expresses the
common Northern impression of the
Old South. It says: "the few thinkers
born south of the Mason and Dixon line,
outnumbered by those belonging to the
single State of Massachusetts, have
commonly emigrated to New York and
Boston in search of a university training.
Nor is it too much to say that mainly
by their connection with the North the
Carolinas have been saved from sinking
to the level of Mexico or the Antilles."
Every well-informed American knows
that that statement is false, and he
further knows that the nearest any
Southern State ever came to sinking to
the level of Mexico or the Antilles was
while the "college-bred men," "Chris-
tians," and politicians from the North
controlled the afl^airs of the South dur-
ing Reconstruction. It is generally ad-
mitted that the South now has its full
portion of intelligence. Does any one
suppose that Sherman's march to the
sea, Sheridan's campaign in the Valley
of Virginia, Butler's conduct in New
Orleans and reconstruction suddenly
brought about an intellectual, education-
al, moral, and literary cataclysm at the
South? We know that the war greatly
retarded all lines of development and
growth. The manufacturing progress
of the Old South was slower than that of
the Eastern States because it w^as a
natural growth and not fostered by
sectional laws. More than that, the
negro kept a splendid immigration to
this country away from the South. He
kept them away then and keeps them
away now, and the negro is unfit for
manufacturing labor.
Now let us see what the textbooks say
of education and relation in the South
before the War between the States.
Abernathy, speaking of colonial times in
his "American Literature," says, "Ed-
ucation and religion were as thoroughly
neglected in Virginia as they were
thoroughly cultivated in Massachusetts"
and Ashley's "American History" says:
"Education was systematically neglect-
ed at the South before the Civil War."
These two will serve as good examples,
and both are recent.
Before Pilgrim or Puritan set foot on
Massachusetts soil, the colonists at
Jamestown, with the aid of English
friends, had established Henrico College
and were building a preparatory school
at Charles City. Both schools were free
to whites and Indians, and both were
destroyed by the Indian massacre of
1622; but this alone shows that the
colonists were interested in education.
As to religion, "their first act on landing
was to arrange a place to worship. They
stretched a sail from the boughs of two
adjacent trees, and here they had ser-
vices morning and evening." Some of
the Southern people later drank, played
cards, and bet on races, just as they did
and do in the other sections; but that
was no more a sign of irreligion than it
was for the Puritans to burn witches at
the stake, cut ofif Quakers' tongues and
ears, and drive out Baptists and others
who thought differently about religion.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
203
The Southerners probably thought more
of the mercies of the Father than of the
vengeance of the Judge. It is counted
deep rehgious feeHng and a high grade of
civiHzation in the early New Englanders
when they cut off the head of King
Philip and placed it upon a pole and sold
his wife and son into slavery; but it is a
sure sign of irreligion and a low order of
civilization in the early Southerners to
play cards, bet on races, or take a drink.
Probably they did not drink New Eng-
land rum. If not, of course it was
wrong.
A pamphlet published in London in
1649 and quoted at length by Fiske, of
Massachusetts, in his "Old Virginia and
Her Neighbors" says: " I may not forget
to tell you that we have a free school,
with two hundred acres of land, a fine
house upon it, forty milch kine, and other
accommodations; other petty schools
also we have. " After naming a number
of early free schools of note established
in Virginia, Fiske again says: "Indeed,
there was after 1649 a considerable
amount of compulsory primary educa-
tion in Virginia, much more than has
generally been supposed, since the
records of it have been buried in the
parish vestry books." Philip A. Bruce,
in his "Economic History of Virginia,"
says: "One of the duties to be performed
on the part of the master was to teach
his youthful servants so that they could
read a chapter in the Bible, the Lord's
Prayer, and the Ten Commandments,"
The early Virginians were indeed a
peculiar people if they bound them-
selves to do these things for their
indentured servants and neglected their
own children. Fiske admits that it is
customary for "historical writers to
make too much of the contrast between
the New England schools and those
of the South" and says the "country
schools of New England rarely ever
taught more than to read, write, and
cipher. " ^
Schools at that time were almost en-
tirely under the control of the Churches.
Each community built its schoolhouse
and hired its teacher much in the same
manner that churches and preachers
are now provided. The system was
crude and the teachers often ignorant
and incompetent. The old field school,
the parish school, or the charity school
was generally present in every neighbor-
hood in the South. Washington, Jack-
son, Grundy, Crockett, Sevier, and other
early frontiersmen had some advantages
even near the borders of civilization.
But, except in a few of the larger towns
of the country in New England, as well
as in the other colonies, free public
schools were looked upon as charitable
institutions, maintained for those who
were too poor to pay tuition, and
wherever possible "rate bills," or coal
taxes, were assessed on all families send-
ing children to these schools. As late
as 1865 rate bills were collected in New
York, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New
Jersey, and other Northern States, and
the practice did not wholly disappear
until 1871.
The textbooks try to leave the im-
pression that great improvements in
the South were brought about by the
abolition of slavery and the influence
of the North during Reconstruction.
But in the ten years from 1850 to 1860
the number of persons at school increased
forty-eight per cent in the South and
fifty per cent in the rest of the country,
and it may be of interest to those who do
not write textbooks to know that in
1860 there were in the free public schools
of the South 781,199 Southern children,
to say nothing of the many children in
home schools, representing one or more
families, enjoying the benefits of one
tutor or governess. This last was a
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
marked feature of education in the South
from earliest times down to the War
between the States. At the same time
the South had one church building to
every three hundred and thirty-
three of her white population, or one to
every five hundred and twenty-eight
of her total population ; while the rest of
the country had one church building to
every six hundred and sixteen of her
total population. These comparisons
ought to silence ignorance and ignora-
muses everywhere on these questions of
education and religion. The statutes
of the different Southern States show
that they had in force long before the
war provisions for free schools. Their
greatest fault was that they were per-
missive rather than compulsory. But
effective compulsory education has
grown up everywhere in this country
since 1860. Of course it was just as
impossible to have good free schools for
all of the people in the rural districts
at the South as it was to have them for
Franklin, Whittier, and Garrison in
Massachusetts, Webster in New Hamp-
shire, old John Brown, in Conneticut,
Brigham Young in Vermont, Garfield in
Ohio, Lincoln in Illinois, or to have better
conditions than faced the "Hoosier
Schoolmaster" in Indiana, or to always
have better teachers than the Ichabod
Cranes of New England and New York.
Just as many men rose to prominence
from the frontier and from among the
poor at the South as in any other section.
Jefferson and Calhoun came from the
democratic West of their day. Patrick
Henry, Henry Clay, Boone, Sevier,
Robertson, the Clarkes, Sam Houston,
Jackson, Farragut, Lincoln, JeiTerson
Davis, Stephens, Benjamin, Forrest,
Stonewall Jackson, and Simms are the
names of a few of the many Southerners
who rose to prominence from among the
poor people. The "aristocracy of the
South" did not hinder their progress or
rise. The charity-educated Alexander
Stephens and the wealthy Toombs were
the best of friends. Lee, the last of the
Cavaliers, called the poor mountain-
born Jackson his "right arm". It was
character and brains that counted in the
South and not wealth or a college degree.
There certainly was not the ignorance in
the Old South, that is generally believed
to have existed. The South held her
own right well against her Northern
antagonists, and ignorance is no longer,
if it ever was, considered an asset in war.
Of the higher institutions of learning,
W^illiam and- Mary College was the best
and richest of all the Colonial schools.
Later it was overshadowed by the
University of Virginia, the first American
university. Such scholarly and able
men as Washington, Henry, Mason,
Pendleton, Wythe, Jefferson, Madison,
Monroe, Marshall, Taney, the Tuckers,
Poe, Legare, Simms, Kennedy, the
Haynes, Gildersleeve, Lanier, Minor,
and many others are sufficient evidence
that it was not "necessary to emigrate
to New York or to Boston in search of a
university training." Phillips Brooks,
the great Boston preacher, was educated
in Virginia. Is that evidence that there
were no schools in New England? The
large number of Southern teachers and
students at Princeton caused it to be
looked upon by many Presbyterians at
the South as a Southern school, while
Southern Federalists often went to
Harvard College, the home of Federa-
lism. The colleges and universities of
this country are certainly better than
they were prior to the war in the sixties,
yet more people go to Europe to school
than ever before. Is that evidence that
we have no place to get a university
training in this country?
Transylvania College, in Kentucky,
was the first school of higher learning
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
205
west of the mountains; the Wesleyan
Female College, founded by Bishop
Pierce in Georgia, was the first institu-
tion in the world for the higher education
of women giving a degree. Waddell's
Willington Academy, in South Carolina,
was a sort of American Eton or Rugby.
There Calhoun was so well prepared that
he entered the junior class at Yale
College and finished the course with the
highest honors. Hugh S. Legare, W. H.
Crawford, Judge Longstreet, McDuffie,
Petigru, W. J. Grayson, Wardlaw, and
many others were prepared for higher
courses at this famous institution.
While the scattered population at the
South retarded efficient district schools
in many places where needed, it was a
land of famous academies and was the
forerunner of the present theory of
centralization of schools. Virgil A.
Lewis, in his "History of Education in
West Virginia," names more than sixty
academies which had been established
in that part of Virginia before the war.
%_ Prince Murat, of France, said that he
found the "best and most cultured
society in Charleston, S. C, that he had
ever met on either side of the Atlantic. "
The Toronto Mail and Express, of
Canada, recently said that the South
I "was regaining some of the lost dignity
and fame of the Southern States, where,
sixty years ago, education and culture
were in a state much in advance of any-
thing that any other part of America
had to offer." There is no reason to
believe that these outside views came
f from partial judges.
r If the schools of New England have
always been perfect, why give Horace
Mann a reputation as an educational
reformer? Brander Matthews, of New
York, speaks of the defective educational
advantages of Irving, Cooper, Bryant,
Hawthorne, Emerson, and other leading
literary men and scholars at the North,
and says: "Harvard College was no
more than a high school when Emerson
left it in 1820." Matthew Page An-
drews, in writing of Colonial New Eng-
land, says: "People sat in church
according to their rank and social
position, beginning with the upper
classes in the front pews to the humbler
folk in the rear. The same rule applied
to students at college, and for more than
one hundred years the Harvard cata-
logue listed its students, not in alpha-
betical order, but according to their
recognized social position." W'as this
democracy in New England? It would
be called rank aristocracy at the South
by the textbooks. Josh Billings must
have had the Northern text writers in
mind when he said: "It is better to
know less than to know so much that
ain't so. "
The Northern textbooks on history
and literature and the Times writer tell
us that the Southern intellect was turned
away from art, science, and literature
and into law and politics as a result of
defending slavery. We know that the
South before 1860 did take the lead in
the political affairs of the country as
well as in the extension of its territory
and in fighting its battles. We admit
that such lawyers as Rutledge, Wythe,
Henry, Marshall, Wirt, Pinkney, Grun-
dy, Legare, Petigru, the Tuckers, Ben-
jamin, Toombs, Cobb, Stephens, and
others at the South were among the very
leaders of the profession in this country.
We are aware of the fact that Lincoln,
Andrew Johnson, Scott, Farragut,
Thomas, Fremont, Captain Winslow,
and others were furnished to the North
by the South in the War between the
States. But there must have been
virtue and intelligence in this Southern
leadership somewhere. The North,
with her greater population, would not
have accepted nor permitted it had it
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
been inferior either mentally or morally
But we deny that slavery hindered art,
science, or literature at the South.
Was not the Northern mind as much
occupied in trying to destroy slavery,
the Constitution, and the Union as the
Southern mind was in defending them?
Did slavery hinder art, science, educa-
tion, or literature in Greece or Rome?
Were not the morals better and the
masters less severe in the Old South than
they were in any of the older countries
during their golden ages? Were not the
morals better and the masters less
severe in the Old South than they now
are in the great industrial centers of
this or any other country? Has there
not been more suffering, sorrow, and
cruelty, more brutality, bloodshed, and
barbarism within the past three years
in the industrial strikes in Michigan,
West Virginia, Colorado, California, and
Lawrence, Mass., than during the entire
existence of slavery at the South?
If it was slavery that hindered literature
in the South, what is it that hinders
literature now in New England?
Where are the Emersons, Hawthornes,
Longfellows, and Lowells of the present
New England? Has the intellect of the
present New Englander become like
that of his native soil, exhausted by
overcultivation ?
The Times writer denies the South the
right to claim John Smith as a Southern
writer, because he was English-born and
because he is no longer read. We
admit this if Ann Bradstreet, Wiggles-
worth, Bradford, Winthrop, Sewell, and
other early New Englanders are eliminat-
ed from the textbooks for the same rea-
sons. If they are not, equal space
ought to be given to Strachey, Sandys,
Alsop, R. Rich, Stith, Blair, Percy, Law-
son, and other early Southerners. The
first piece of literature of merit produced
in America was a partial translation of
Ovid's "Metamorphoses" by George
Sandys at Jamestown, Va. The best
and most original poem produced in the
colonies before the Revolution was
Bacon's "Epitaph by a Virginian."'
The works of James Blair, Beverly, and
Byrd compare favorably with those of
Mather, Prince, and Franklin. These
Southerners are rarely if ever mentioned
in the Northern textbooks. Aber-
nathy gives more space in his "Ameri-
can Literature" to Franklin, though he
admits that he was not a literary man,
than to Washington, Mason Jefferson,.
Madison, Marhsall, Bland, the Lees,
Randolph, Henry, Laurens, Middleton,.
the Draytons, Rutledge, the Pickneys^
Moultrie, Gadsden, Maurice Moore,
Ephriam Brevard, and other contem-
porary Southerners, all combined. In
fact, most of them are not mentioned.
All were great patriots, all wrote in-
teresting things, and several of
them deserve as much space in a work on
American literature as Franklin.
American literature proper begins
with Irving and includes at the North
Cooper, Bryant, Emerson, Whittier,.
Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell, and possi-
bly Whitman as leaders. At the South
equals and as contemporaries were
Kennedy, Simms, Poe, Timrod, Hayne,.
Cooke, Ryan, and Lanier. All of these
Southern writers except Lanier had made
distinct contributions to literature before
the war, as also had Drayton, Ram-
sey, Claiborne, Bishop Meade, Marshall,
Pickett, the Tuckers, Gayarre, Goudling,
F. O. Ticknor, Meek, Leagre, J. J.
Hooper, Weems, Rives, Garland, Audu-
bon, Poinsette, Elliott, Canonge, Mer-
cier, Howison, W. H. Trescott, Maury,
Judge Longstreet, Babgy, Hope, Caru-
thers, Strother, Benton, Wirt, J. R..
Thompson, Burke, and many others.
Most of the Northern group greatly
increased their fame and productions
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
207
after 1860; while Longfellow, Emerson,
Whittier, Lowell, Holmes, and Whitman
all outlived Lanier, the youngest of the
Southern group, and all these, except
Longfellow and Emerson, outlived
Hayne, Cooke, and Ryan, the last of
the Southern group. Lanier, the young-
est of the Southern group, received his
inspiration, training, and culture under
the Old South and fought to maintain
her institutions.
A careful examination of the literature
of the Old South will show that nowhere
outside of Massachusetts at the North
was there deeper interest or greater
activity in literature than in Virginia
and South Carolina. Louisiana was not
far behind, but a large part of her
literature was in the French language.
There was as much literary activity in
North Carolina as was to be found in
Rhode Island, as much in Georgia as
was to be found in Connecticut, as much
in Alabama as was to be found in Ohio,
and as much in Tennessee or Texas as
was to be found in Illinois or Michigan.
No higher standards of criticism were
offered in the North American Review
or Atlantic Monthly than were to be
found in the Southern Literary Mes-
senger and the Charleston Magazines.
Poe, Simms, Legare, Thompson, G. H.
Miles, Hayne, Lanier, and others at the
South equaled the very leaders at the
North in sound literary criticism. Ham-
ilton W. Mabie, of New York, admits
that "the love of letters for their own
sake was probably stronger in the Old
South than in New England, where
ethical and religious questions made
literature as literature a matter of
secondary importance". But the
Northern textbooks on history and
literature, as well as the publishers
generally, have seemingly conspired
together to suppress the truth about the
South's contributions to art, science, and
literature. They tried to do the same
thing with Poe and filled their halls of
fame with many less worthy from the
North until the outside world rescued
him from the conspiracy. The text-
books always speak of the intemperance
of Poe, but they do not take this into
account when Webster is compared to
Calhoun and Hayne. Regardless of
Webster's intemperance, loose morals,
and inconsistencies, he is given more
space in the textbooks and selections of
orations than all of the Southern orators
and statesmen, from Washington to
Grady, combined.
The very fact that most of the leading
literary men of the South led more
strictly literary lives than their Northern
contemporaries ought to give them a
distinguished if not a unique place in
American literature. Few men up to
that time in this country had tried to
live by pure literature alone; but Poe,
Simms, Hayne, Timrod, Cooke, and
we might almost say, Lanier hardly ever
earned a dollar except by their literary
products and at times under the most
trying circumstances. Irving, Emerson
Longfellow, Bryant, Hawthorne, Lowell,
and other leaders at the North had other
professions, were antislavery agitators,
editors, or held political posts under the
government. There existed at that
time in the North, as well as at the
South, a sentiment against authorship
as a profession, and Irving, Bryant,
Lowell, and others at the North began
their careers as lawyers.
When we remember that America has
no very great literature, that we have
not produced a real national poet unless
it be Poe, that New England has not
produced an author of the first or second
rank of world writers, and that we have
overlooked much that is weak in the
leading writers of the North and have
written and spoken of their works with
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
much charity, we will be much better
able to arrive at a fair estimate of the
South's literature.
The charge that the Southern writers
are, when compared to the writers of the
North, "suprisingly imitative" is an
unjust charge and without foundation.
Tennyson well said: "Your Bryant,
Whittier, and others are pigmies com-
pared with Poe. He is the literary glory
of America." A careful comparative
study will show that there is more
imitation in Longfellow's works than in
the works of Paul Hayne, as much imi-
tation in the works of Bryant and
Holmes as there is in the works of Timrod
and Ryan, and there is as much imitation
in the works of Emerson or Lowell as
there is in Lanier's works. Of the three
real original American poets — Poe,
Whitman, and Lanier — the South has
furnished two. And the influence of
Poe on American as well as European
literature is greater than that of all other
American writers combined. Kennedy,
Simms, and Cooke were no worse, in
their imitation than Irving and Cooper.
These prose writers, North and South,
were influenced by English writers, but
each had his original qualities. Though
Kenedy wrote less, he wrote as well as
Irving; while Simms rarely fell below
Cooper and often surpassed him.
Simms certainly surpassed Cooper in
range, versatility and productiveness,
as he often did in \'ivid description and in
the faithful portrayal of Indian char-
acter. Both wrote too much to write
with great care. Trent, the biographer
of Simms, has been to him what Gris-
wold was to Poe. He condemms the
South, and especially Carolina, for her
neglect of Simms and all along says that
Simms was not worth noticing. He
makes light of the poetry of Simms and
proceeds to give us much worse poetry of
his own. He forgets that Irving, Cooper
Hawthorne, and other Northern writers
complained of the North's neglect of
their efforts. The South, with its small
white population, could hardly be ex-
pected to support an extensive litera-
ture. Besides, the South's wider knowl-
edge of the best of European literature
made her more critical than the North.
The Southern critic never compared our
literary men to the leaders of Europe,
because her literary tastes were better;
while New England compares Whittier
to Burns, Longfellow to Tennyson
Emerson to Plato, and Lowell to Carlyle.
Of course these are childish comparisons.
The time has come when there ought
to be an honest comparative study of
the literature of the Old South, not with
that of England, but with that of the
North. Compare Paul H. Hayne with
Longfellow and Bryant, Timrod with
Bryant and Whittier, and Lanier with
Emerson and Lowell. The poetry of
the South is generally aesthetic or poli-
tical in motive, while that of the North
is more often ethical or religious. Both
love nature, but the South touches its
brighter side ; while the North, influenced
by Puritianism, swelld on its gloomier
aspects. Theology, transcendenatlism,
and slavery in turn dominated the
literature of the North, while the leading
Southern writers stand out in strong
isolated individuality. The Southern
poets did not aspire to the role of social
or religious reformers. Their only ties
were a common love for their country
and a devotion to art. For this reason
we may well call them more cosmopo-
politan than the Northern group.
"Profound meditativeness " often men-
tioned by the text writers in connection
with the leaders at the North, is not a
quality belonging to any of our poets.
None of them have drunk ever "deep,"
Hayne is at times pensive, but so are
both Longfellow and Bryant. He is at
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
209
times diffuse, probably his greatest
fault, but both Longfellow and Bryant
are diffuse. Hanye is rarely oratory,
while both Bryant and Longfellow often
preach. Hayne certainly surpasses
either Longfellow or Bryant as a sonnet
writer, and he used the sonnet to splen-
did effect in restraint of his diffuseness.
Hayne has other faults, but, excluding
Poe, they were common to the best of
the times in this country. No other
contemporary American poet, however,
touched nature so often and so well as
Hayne. It was this phase of his work
that caused Onderdonk to call him the
"Woodland Minstrel of America."
Ludwig Lewisohn calls Hayne's "Dap-
hels" the "finest narrative poem ever
written in this country." So does
Jerome Stockard. Hubner, in his "Rep-
resentative Southern Poets," says:
"Tennyson spoke of him as the finest
sonnet writer in America, Grimm of
Germany praised him enthusiastically,
and Victor Hugo placed him in the front
rank of American poets." Painter, in
his "Poets of the South," places Tim-
rod, Hanye, and Lanier with the best in
this country; while Wauchope, in his
"Writers of South Carolina," considers
Hayne and Timrod in the front rank of
American poets. Maurice Thompson,
in speaking of Copse Hill, the home of
Hayne after the war, says: "You cannot
realize that here lives one of the most
famous poets in the world, Paul H.
Hayne, the friend and peer of Longfellow
Holmes, and Whittier. " Whipple, of
Boston, praised the poetry of Hayne
enthusiastically and compared him to
William Morris, of England. In in-
dorsing what Whippel had said, Bryant
wrote: "This is very high praise, but it
is well merited, and Mr Hayne is even
more happy in his lyrical than in his
narrative poems. Grace, tenderness,
and truth are characteristic of them all. "
Abernathy, of New York, in his
"Southern Poets," says: "No list of
American poets can be complete without
the names of Timrod, Hayne, and Lanier
and no school serves the interest of its
pupils properly that fails to introduce
them to these poets with the other
accepted poets of our land." He also
gives them a place in his recent "Ameri-
can Literature," and, while fair, he is
entirely too brief. Longfellow said:
"The time will surely come when Tim-
rod's poems will have a place in every
home of culture in our country. " Ham-
ilton W. Mabie, in an editorial in the
Outlook for December 2, 1899, approved
what Professor Thornton, of the Uni-
versity of Virginia, had said in claiming
for Poe, Timrod, and Lanier a place in
"American Literature" equal to that
given to Longfellow, Bryant, and Whit-
tier. In Volume LXVIII. of the Out-
look Mr. Mabie again says: "The
provincialism of thought in Timrod
disappears, the thinness of temper-
ment in Emerson, the rigidity of
Bryant, the lack of variety in Whittier,
the didacticism of Lowell — all these
elements of weakness in American poetry
disappear in the large elemental move-
ment of imagination in the 'Marshes of
Glynn' by Lanier." He also calls
Timrod's "Cotton Boll" and Lanier's
"Sunrise" "among the most original
achievements in American poetry."
Many leading critics in this country and
in Europe consider Lanier, after Poe,
America's greatest poet.
The poetry of Ryan has been less
frequently touched by the critics. He
is, like Longfellow, a household poet and
is more generally read than any other
poet from the South except Poe. His
poetry was generally simple, clear,
spontaneous, and full of melody. The
fact that his poems have passed into
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
numerous editions is evidence of their
popularity.
Now let us see how the Northern
textbooks on American literature have
treated these leading Southern writers.
Mrs. Leigh was. certainly justified in
condemning the textbook of Brander
Matthews on American literature as
being unfair to the South. He treats
Lanier and Timrod together and gives
them three lines, but does not even men-
tion Paul Hayne or Ryan. On the
other hand, he gives the author of
"Uncle Tom's Cabin" one whole page.
Mrs Stowe certainly does not deserve
any more space in a textbook on Ameri-
can literature than the author of
"Leopard's Spots." Matthews gives
Halleck, Drake, and Thoreau ten pages
each and Cooper thirteen pages, while
he gives Simms only four lines. He
gives Irving sixteen pages and only three
lines to Kennedy. Matthews is a good
example, and his book is complete
evidence that some of the Northern
schools are yet in a bad way for. lack of
efficient, unselfish, and broad-minded
teachers.
Stedman, from whom most of the
others have copied, Wendell, Richardson,
Pancoast, Patee, Noble, Irish, Painter,
Beers, Hawthorne, Newcomer, Smiley,
Trent and Abernathy are the names of a
few text writers who show this same
spirit. Most of these text writers follow
some old out-of-date anthology, en-
cyclopedia, or textbook written when
sectional hate at the North was too
strong to brook anything like fairness.
I seriously doubt if ten per cent of them
ever read a dozen pages each from the
works of Kennedy, Simms, Hayne,
Timrod, or Cooke, and but few have
studied Lanier. Abernathy, one of the
fairest and one of the most recent, gives
all Southern writers about forty pages in
a textbook of five hundred pages. He
gives Franklin as much space as he gives
Poe. He gives Simms two pages, while
he gives Thoreau five and Cooper eleven.
He gives Webster eleven pages and Clay
and Calhoun together about three lines.
He gives Everett, Choate, Phillips, and
Sumner about one page each and does
not even mention Lowndes, Cheeves,
Randolph, Legare, W. C. Preston, Ben-
ton, R. Y. Hayne, Petigru, McDuffie,
Davis, Toombs, Stephens, Benjamin
Hill, Benjamin, Yancey, Lamar, Curry,
Gordon, or Grady. Though he speaks
of the present writers of the South as
"representing the finest story-telling
of our times," he gives Howells, of New
York, more space than all of them com-
bined. Even if Cooke did say that
Howells and the realists had superseded
him in public favor as a novelist, I still
prefer his "Virginia Comedians" to any-
thing Howells ever wrote. There has
been a reaction against the realists as
well as the idealists.
Stedman gives Timrod and Hayne
about five lines each, while he gives
Whitman fifty pages. Wendell gives
Hayne one page, Homles seventeen, and
Whittier eleven; he gives Simms two
pages and Brocden Brown eleven pages.
Richardson gives Simms four pages and
Cooper forty. "Masterpieces of Ameri-
can Literature," a book used as a text,
has no place for even Poe, but includes
O'Reilly's poem on the "angelic" Puri-
tans. Newcomer, from the West, while
he warns us in his preface against the lo-
cal and personal influences of the Eastern
authors on the Eastern text writers, is
equally unfair to the South. He gives
Bayard Taylor as much space as he gives
Hayne, Timrod, and Lanier combined;
while he gives Brocden Brown six pages.
Thoreau eleven and only ten lines to
Simms. This sectionalism and ignor-
ance does not stop with the textbooks;
it is found in nearlv all the works on his-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
211
tory and literature which emanate from
-the North. The New International
Encyclopedia gives as much space to
John Brown, the traitor and murderer,
as it gives to Toombs, Yancey, or Alex-
ander Stephens ; it gives as much space to
John L. Sullivan, the Boston prize fighter
as it gives to Zeb Vance or Henry W.
Grady, and has no place for such authors
as William J. Grayson and James Bar-
ron Hope. This work is a living monu-
ment to the literary tastes and scholar-
ship of its editors. The Columbia En-
cyclopedia gives as much space to old
John Brown as it gives to Jefferson
Davis. These are but a few instances
that might be mentioned and are good
examples of the scholarship, patriotism,
and broad-mindedness of people who
claim to be the only true lovers of the
Union.
It will appear from the few estimates
of the many that might be given that
there is at least a difference of opinion
as to the place the leading Southern
writers ought to have in our literature.
The same difference of opinion exists as
to Whitman, but he is laways treated at
length, even by his enemies. This
slighting Southern literature comes, I
believe, chiefly from pure ignorance. I
will venture to say that at least ninety
per cent of the teachers and students at
the North, all the way from the public
schools to the universities, have never
even heard the names of a majority of
these leading Southern writers. Yet
the Northern text writers, teachers, and
college men, like the old darky's politi-
cian, "give themselves pow'ful reputa-
tions" as scholars.
A textbook which finds a place to dis-
cuss such poets as Freneau, Halleck,
Drake, Story, Woodworth, Willis, Read
Stedman, Aldrich, Gilder, Holland, Hay,
Carleton, and others at the North should
give equal space to Richard Dabney.
William Mumford, Pickney, Shaw, Key,
W. J. Grayson, Wilde, F. O. Ticknor,
Meek, O'Hara, L. P. Canonge, A. Mer-
cier, Hope, J. R. and Maurice Thomp-
son, G. H. Miles, T. A. S. Adams, Ran-
dall, Chivers, Reuqier, Flash, the Tou-
quettes, Irwin Russell, T. H. Hill,
Bonner, and others from the South.
There is no more imitation in the works
of the minor Southern writers than in the
works of the minor writers of the North.
Grayson's "Chicora" and Meek's "Red
Eagle" are the second and third best
poems on the American Indian, though
both are nearly unknown. The works
of St. George Tucker, George H. Tucker,
William Elliott, Wirt, Caruthers, F. R.
Goulding, Weems, Strother (Porte Cra-
yon), and others at the South are as good
and as interesting as the works of Broc-
den Brown, Thoreau, Dana Hale, Boker
Mitchell, and others at the North. I
can name a dozen women writers of the
Old South equal to Mrs. Stowe, but not
one of them is ever mentioned in the
textbooks. The South furnished several
prominent historians of that period and
her humorists certainly surpass those
that any other section produced during
the same time. It is very rare that the
names of any of the Southern historians
or humorists are mentioned in the text-
books.
According to population, the Old South
needed only two leading writers to equal
the North. I feel sure they can be
found in Poe, Kennedy, Simms, Hayne,
Timrod, and Lanier.
"In the future some historian shall
come forth, brave and wise.
With the love of the republic and the
truth before his eyes.
He will hold the scales of justice, he will
measure' praise with blame;
And the South shall stand his verdict,
and stand it without shame."
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE NEW NORTH STATE
By Archibald Henderson
IN HIS notorious "History of the
Dividing line betwixt Virginia and
North Carolina," which was run in the
year 1728, the witty William Byrd of
Westover hazarded the ironical query:
"Considering how fortune delights in
bringing great things out of small, who
knows but Carolina may, one time or
another, come to be the seat of some
great empire?" As I glance back over
the two tumultuous centuries which have
elapsed since Byrd ventured that ironi-
cal query, and think of the long, long
way we have traveled since that primi-
tive, barren time, I cannot but conclude
that William Byrd, all unwittingly, was
something more than the "idle singer of
an empty day. " That "great empire, "
of which he so ironically spoke — has in-
deed found its seat in this ancient com-
monwealth of Carolina. It is in the new
time that Carolina has come to be the
seat of a great empire of democracy —
a democracy of culture and of the human
spirit.
In the strange, sad epic of the silent
south. North Carolina can justly claim
the authority that springs from the
motherhood of American liberty. At
the very moment when Byrd was run-
ning that dividing line betwixt North
Carolina and Virginia, the borderers
were eager to be included within the
bounds of North Carolina, "as there they
paid no tribute to God or Ceasar. "
Those epic ships of Raleigh, sailing west-
ward over unknown seas and beaching
at last their keels upon the golden sands
of Roanoke, bore in their bosoms a breed
of men fired with the divine spark which
in that England of the spaicous days of
Elizabeth flamed up in rugged prose and
in soaring, immortal verse. The breed
of men who settled here bore in their
right hand a genius for civilization and
an indomitable pride of race, and in
their left hand an inflexible steadfastness
and a common sense as firm as adamant.
In the struggle for existence which they
were compelled to wage, the taming of
nature, the conquest of a savage foe,
there was bred in them a mighty re-
sourcefulness and the grim hardihood of
self-reliance. Our legacy from a century
of pioneers is a passion for successful
self-expression, for efficiency, and for
creative conquest. How shorn of a
grea tmeasure of distinction and great-
ness would be this American nation, in
its pioneer days and crude beginnings,
if bereft of the pioneering genius of
Daniel Boone, the love of liberty of the
eloquent William Hooper, the prophetic
insight of that herald of culture, William
R. Davie, the legal wisdom of James
Iredell, the granite conservatism of
Nathaniel Macon, the flaming patriotism
of Andrew Jackson, the new Ameri-
canism of Thomas Hart Benton. How
improverished would be the early annals
of our country if there were blotted out
the memory of Moore's Creek bridge, of
Guilford courthouse, of King's mountain,
of the resistance to the stamp act at Wil-
mington, the patriotism of Mecklen-
burg, the statesmanship at Halifax, the
definite salvation of the Trans-Alle-
hgany region by the pioneers of Transyl-
vania. Out of North Carolina, the
fountain source of American liberty,
welled up the streams of creative con-
tribution which have helped to make
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
213
this nation great — the inflexible spirit
which knows no compromise, the pas-
sionate belief in liberty and democracy,
and the unchanging faith in the worth
and dignity of average humanity.
Midway in her career — a career memor-
able for national statesmanship, con-
tinental thinking, and purity of thought
in public service — a dark disaster fell
upon the south. Following that tragic
national crisis, when the south in the
dimness of anguish beheld the loss of
wealth, the abolition of property, the
violation of the very sanctities of her
civilization, this people sternly set them-
selves to the task of repairing those
fallen fortunes and rebuilding that
civilization upon broader and more
universal outlines. In the era since
the war between the states, the south
has achieved a prosperity distinguished
by its universal diffusion, and devoted
its energies to the education of the
common man to the tasks of leadership
in all the avenues of an advancing civi-
lization.
It was in the earlier grim stages of
that era of civilization rebuilding— the
era of the slow emergence of the average
man from the pressure of economic
necessity and the blight of arrested
cultural development — that the south
temporarily relaxed her hold upon the
reins of national government. * * *
Transit of An Era.
The election of Woodrow Wilson and
the quindecennial anniversary of Gettys-
burg marked the transit of an era.
* * * Surely it is a fact of almost
miraculous fitness that, in this dramatic
resumption by the south of the control
of our national destinies. North Carolina
should play a predominant role. It
is with a sense of conscious elation, no
less profound that it is subdued, that
we, the citizens of this ancient common-
wealth, reflect that American history
can furnish no authentic parallel to
the present epochal contribution of
North Carolina to the life of the nation.
In this great era of national responsi-
bility and national peril the country
breathes in safety with Josephus Daniels
maintaining North Carolina's great
traditions in the navy established by
Branch, Badger, Graham and Dobbin;
with Houston setting new standards of
business efficiency and practical states-
manship for national agriculture; with
Simmons tha leader of a senate, Kitchin
the destined floor leader of the house;
and native and adopted sons like Claxton
and Holmes and Osborn effectively
ministering to the educationa,! indus-
trial, and financial needs of a nation.
In this. North Carolina's hour — the
reward of traditional fidelity to principle
in public life, of enlarging social sym-
pathy, and of invincible faith in demo-
cracy^— there seems to operate a noble
piecies of compensatory justice. The
nation once more turns for guidance to
the venerable commonwealth of North
Carolina, and to the south — the ancient
mother of national leadership.
Do you then realize that this, the age
in which we live — today — heralds the
golden age of North Carolina and the
south? As we stand upon the thres-
hold of this new era, there must come to
all^ of us a sense of joyous elation, a
leaping of the blood, that it is given to
us to live at such a t'me and in such
a country. While our sister Republic
of Mexico is racked with the dire dis-
sensions of civil strife, which the un-
selfish devotions of this nation have
watchfully and patiently sought to
ally; while Europe is a cosmic holo-
caust of flame and blcod and steel;
while the commerce of belligerent nations
is suffering from partial paralysis and the
voice of famine utters to our heeding
214
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
ears its grim and tragic petition — Amer-
ica stands firm for peace, for progress,
for humanity, for civilization. The
whole country responds today to the
impetus of our enlarging commerce and
advancing trade. The south daily,
hourly grows in wealth, in buoyant power
in the will to meet the manifest obliga-
tion of her destiny. Supreme engineer-
ing genius has cleft in twain Culebra
and recalcitrant Panama; and today the
lock gates at Gatun, Pedro Miguel and
Miraflores hospitably fling wide the
giant portals of the isthmus to the
argosies of commerce, to the trade of the
south, the nation, and the world. * *
The south is America's present land
of promise. Here upon our own soil
will be undertaken the next supreme
experiment in the life of the nation.
This will be the scene of the next great
act in the American drama of industrial
expansion. The thought which gives
me comfort, when I reflect upon the
future of the south, is the consciousness
that in this era of expanding wealth and
a pervasive industrialism, the southern
people still tenaciously hold to those
high yet simple realities which, through-
out our history, have won the confi-
dence and the faith of a nation.
In the hearts of all of us, I daresay,
there is a deep, abiding affection and
reverence for the virtues of a people who,
throughout an historic past, have given
to North Carolina the rich, mellow name
of the Old North State. I sense those
ancient virutes as a fragrant breath from
some distant garden of old-fashioned
flowers — a full blooded parochialism
redeemed by the abiding love of Chris-
tian faith, of family, of fireside; an in-
flexible integrity which put love of the
truth and passion for the making of men
above love of place and passion for the
making of money; a rugged provincia-
lism which had its roots firmly fixed
in a love of naturalness and a scorn for
all pretense; a granite conservatism
which cherished tradition and ever look-
ed with stern disfavor upon the new and
the empiric. This is the Old North
State — always fighting for her right
while neglecting her interests; generous-
reckless, romantic improvident, unpre,
tentious chivalrous, and brave. * *
In our hearts is enshrined the figure
of the most venerable, this most Amer-
ican commonwealths — the unpreten-
tious, homespun, yet infinitely lovable
Rip Van Winkle of the States.
The New North State.
Tonight, my friends, I give you the
new North State. From out our past
have come the old Roman virtues; into
our future shall go the new American
virutes of the new age — an enlarged
communal consciousness; a deeper sense
of local pride which expresses itself, not
in voicing a glorification of the past, but
in putting the shoulder hard to the wheel
of civic progress; a strenuous common
effort for the attainment of a new free-
dom, individual, political, and social —
for women as well as for men: and a
passionate, a relentless egarness for the
building of a new and higher civili-
zation. We are meeting within the
very week — simply eloquent in its title;
Community Service week — a type of
the seven labors of the new Hercules
of an aroused civic consciousness — the
prophetic vision of that splendid type
of the new social publicist, Edward K.
Graham; aided by the practical wisdom
of an agriculturist sociologist, the popu-
lar leader, Clarence Poe; and happily
legislated into permanence through the
fiat of a progressive, forward-looking
governor, Locke Craig. Only a few
weeks ago, patriotic, liberty-loving wo-
men of North Carolina appropriately
met in the precincts of Mecklenburg to
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
215
write the political charter of a new
declaration of independence. But of
the fullness of our new life here have gone
to other nations the heralds of American
culture. The first southern scholar se-
lected to go as Roosevelt professor, as
academic ambassador of culture, to the
German nation, is the distinguished or-
ator of tomorrow night, a native of
Greensboro, Charles Alphonso Smith;
and when President Wilson needed a man
big enough for the largest diplomatic
post in the country's gift, he called upon
a great publisher and editor of our most
distinctively national magazine, Walter
H. Page, who is now enjoying the con-
fidence and winning the plaudits of all
in his dexterous management of the
innumerable complex issues evoked by
the problems of a titanic European war.
I would not have you think that, in
this chorus of praise, there is no room
in my mind for reservations or for the
acknowledgement of grave deficiencies
in our artistic and literary culture. In-
deed, the latest researches of science
compel the belief that genious is not the
result of the evolution of the masses of
the people, but is a giant variation from
the common level of our species.
I Whether or not we acknowledge that
genius is a spontaneous giant variation,
a sporadic birth of energy not built up
from the simple to the complex, cer-
tainly it must be recognized that art,
as a factor of civilization, is an incom:
parable means of widening intellectual
and spiritual horizons and promoting
the cause of culture. It cannot be
denied that the measure of a people's
advance in the fine arts is the measure
of their distance from the brutes. Art
is not merely an auxiliary to civilization,
^ art is almost synonymous with civiliza-
tion itself. "Life without art," as
Ruskin says, "is mere brutality." And
no matter how remarkable have been
the "spontaneous, giant variations from
the common level of our species," it
behooves us to take account of that pre-
cious "common level" which, in a true
sense, is the measure of civilization in a
democracy.
"To live and to Work."
"What is the problem of culture?"
asks that remarkable artist and astute
philosopher so maligned by the English
people today, Friedrich Nietzsche. His
answer is unimpeachable: "To live and
to work in the noblest strivings of one's
nation and of humanity. Not only,
therefore, to receive and to learn but
to live. To free one's age and people
from wrong tendencies, to have one's
ideal before one's eyes. " Much as I re-
gret to admit it, long and patient obser-
vation compels me to acknowledge that
here in the south of the past, here in
North Carolina, so far as art and litera-
ture are concerned, we have not lived
and worked in the noblest strivings of
one's nation and of humanity. In litera-
ture and art, for more than a century,
we have received; even in a sense
we have learned; but we have not lived.
There may be much truth in the witty
definition that penury is the wages of
the pen. And at the annual banquet in
London of the Royal L^teray fund for
the Relief of Necessitous authors, Wal-
ter Page recently evoked a chorus of
dessent to his statement; "From the
viewpoint of mere barnyard gumption it
is absurd for anybody to start to spend
his life writing. Gambling is more like-
ly to yield a steady income. It is an
absurd career and a foolish foolhardy
business. No man has a right to take
it up who can avoid doing so. " In mak-
ing these observations, which must be
taken with a liberal pinch of salt, Mr.
Page was undoubtedly making a hu-
morous personal confession. I may go
216
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
even further and hazard the guess that
he was thinking of North Carolina. It
is a remarkable commentary upon our
civilization that, so far as my knowledge
goes, no man or woman in North Caro-
lina, with the omission of journalists,
has ever succeeded in earning, or even
attempted to earn a livelihood solely
through the medium of the pen of the
literary artist. * * *
I never think of the literature of my
native state that I do not recall the
mournful threnody of that famous bard
of our sister Carolina, J. Gordon Coogler :
Alas for the south! Her books have grown
fewer ;
She never was much given to Hterature.
* * *
Many of you have seen upon Univer-
sity Heights in New York city a noble
structure of gleaming white marble, an
enduring monument to American genius,
the Hall of Fame. Of the 51 tablets
thus far placed upon its walls, only one
bears the name of a native of North
Carolina, the soldier-statesman, Andrew
Jackson; and through the patronage of
Willie and Allen Jones, and the guar-
dianship of Joseph Hewes, North Caro-
lina can lay a secondary claim to but one
other name, among those of foreign birth
the man whom Benjjmin Franklin dub-
bed the "North Carolina midshipman,"
the greatest naval hero in our annals,
John Paul Jones. A soldier-statesman
and a sailor — but no man or woman of
literary genius. In the hall of fame,
the south is represented by soldiers, sail-
ors, statesmen, jurists, scientists, but by
only one distinctively literary genius —
a man of English parentage who hap-
pened to be born in Boston, Massachus-
etts— Edgar Allan Poe.
For many years I have searched deep-
ly into the causes for the comparative
dearth of literary and artistic produc-
tivity in the south and for that genial
southern indifference to publication — the
rock upon which literary fame is found-
ed. Tonight, I shall dispense with all
explanation, apology or excuse. The
thrill of the new time tempts one less
to pathetic retrospection than to buoy-
ant prophecy. Neverless I must voice
my solemn conclusion that we can-
not build up here a great civilization — a
civilization as great in art and letters, in
culture and taste as it is great in mate-
rial resources, statesmanlike ideals, and
an aroused social consciousness — un-
less we do live and work in the noblest
strivings of our nation and of humanity.
Investigation has convinced me that
North Carolina is lamentably backward,
woefully deficient, in her activity and
representation in the great national or-
ganizations making for the development
of art, literature, drama and all the
multifarious activities which make for
artistic culture in a democracy. I have
studied the records of these national or-
ganizations for the present year in the
effort to record, faithfully and justly,
the part actually played by North Caro-
lina in the life and work of national
cutlure. I find that North Carolina is
not represented at all in the National
Academy of Arts and Letters, or in the
much larger body of the National In-
stitute of Arts and Letters; nor has she
any official representation, in the form
of elected officers, president or vice pres-
idents, in the American Historical asso-
ciation, the American Academy of Arts
and Sciences, the American Pageant as-
sociation, the Drama League of Ameri-
ca, the American Folk Lore society, the
Poetry Society of America and the
American Academy of Political and So-
cial Science. Little if any attention
need be paid to those of sectional bias
who point out that no scholar or man
of letters, so long as he remains in the
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
217
south, ever wins large recognition in the
national societies. Such a narrow
charge, even though resting upon indis-
putable facts, might arise from a com-
plete misinterpretation of those facts,
and in any case cannot serve as a valid
excuse for our supineness and indiffer-
ence. In science, pure and applied.
North Carolina is nationally and inter-
nationally recognized. In this great
branch of knowledge and research no
southern state is her equal. But in the
arts — literature, painting, sculpture,
drama — North Carolina is not living and
working today in the noblest strivings
of the nation and humanity.
Immediate Needs.
As I have studied the cultural prob-
lems of our life here and sought to make
of this association a more construc-
tive instrument for ministering to
our cultural wants, I have come to the
conclusion that we have three vital and
immediate needs. The program of the
meetings of the association for this
year have been especially designed to
meet these needs.
No people can form a just estimate
of their history, or feel legitimate pride
in it, until they know what that history
really is. No comprehensive and com-
plete history of North Carolina will ever
be written until the contrubution of the
invididual units, whose integrated life
have constituted that history, are
studied and bodied forth with complete-
ness and detail. The county is the unit
of the state; the history of the county
must furnish the nucleus of the history
of the state. North Carolina has ex-
actly one hundred counties; it is a
regrettable fact that histories, of reason-
able adequacy, have been written of
only a dozen out of these hundred
counties. I earnestly desire to identify
this association with the duty and the
task of stimulating, inspiring and di-
recting the writings of the industrial,
social, economic, institutional histories
of every single county in North Carolina
The accomplishment of this great work
will prepare the way for the writing of
the true and definite history of North
Carolina — the moving story of the life
of a great people.
In like manner, I desire to see our
people acquire a decent and adequate
knowledge of the literary contributions
of North Carolina for the past one
hundred and twenty-five years. Nie-
tzsche defines man as a something to be
surpassed. And surely we can never rise
above ourselves to ourselves until we
really feel and know what North Caro-
lina has contributed in letters to the
thought and the consciousness of the
American people. As the county is the
unit of the state, so the state is the
unit of the nation. * * *
It has been my great ambition to have
this association take account in an
orderly way of the manifold sides of our
native literature — history, poetry, fic-
tion, oratory and folk-lore. * * *
Suggestions For Counties
Lastly, I have one recommendation to
make to this association and to the peo-
ple of North Carolina. It is to no
Brahmin caste of scholars, to no occu-
pants of the ivory tower of literary se-
clusion, that I would make this recom-
mendation. I appeal to the communal
consciousness of a people — a people who,
individually and collectively, need to be
inspired with a deep sense of historic
tradition and the passion of a great
faith in the destiny of our common-
wealth. I desire to see spread before our
people the entire pageant of our his-
toric creativeness — as I have seen great
pageants of the history of Oxford uni-
versity and of the development of that
218
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
martial power of the British empire,
now so terribly taxed upon the battle-
fields of Europe. Pageantry has been
defined as poetry for the masses. We
deeply need to see created in North
Carolina, through the common efforts
of our leading citizens, a fine art for the
people. The elemental instinct for dem-
ocratic art in our midst needs to be
educated, developed, refined, by means
of popular pageantry, into a mighty
agency for civilization. I recommend
that, during the coming year, historic
episodes of state and national interest
be presented by common effort in com-
munities throughout the state. May I
suggest, among other, s for Wilmington
the revolt against the stamp act; for
Edenton, the ladies tea party; for New
Bern, the settlement of the Palatines;
for Winston-Salem, the founding of the
academy; for Charlotte, the Mecklen-
burg declaration of independence; for
Salisbury, incidents from the careers of
Daniel Boone and the pioneers; for
Greensboro, the battle of Guilford
Courthouse. Next year, during com-
munity-service week, all of these episodes
which have been locally presented
and perhaps others should then be
linked together in a great state his-
torical pageant here in Raleigh, the
capital of the commonwaelth — arranged
in chronological order and designed to
give a poetic and romantic picture of
the historic evolution of the life of a
people. Through this happy wedding of
art and history may be brought home
to our consciousness a pro oundly mov-
ing realization of a glorious past and a
quickening of all our desires and hopes
and labors for an even more glorious
future.
— Presidential address before the State Lit-
erary and Historical Association of North
Carolina.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
219
LOOKING IN ON THOMAS DIXON
By O. Bargamin Crocker
A T HIS home on Riverside Drive,
■^ ^ in the library at the top of the
house, which by the way, is shut off
with a trap door over the stairs, sits
Thomas Dixon, working, while the out-
side world with its glorious sunshine and
budding flowers of Spring call to him in
vain.
He is up to his ears in manuscript.
With a master hand he is weaving ro-
mances that thrill in their daring and
quicken the pulse of the reader by tender,
tense love scenes.
He is doing three novels.
"My! You are certainly busy! Of
course you are doing them one at a
time?"
"Rest assured I am!" was his prompt
rejoinder. "But I have them all out-
lined. "
"And you have no secretary? I
thought all big writers had secretaries. "
He threw back his head and laughed
. in that whole-souled way of his.
I "I never indulge in such luxuries!"
he declared. "In fact I'm a bear when
at work. I can't endure any human
being near me. If I had a secretary I
should commit murder sooner or later."
"I was quite surprised to see your
latest novel running serially in the
Green Book. I never heard of you
writing for a magazine before. In fact,
if you remember, you told me about a
year ago that you had no time for
magazine stories. You were busy get-
ting out novels. "
"That's true. The Foolish Virgin
is a novel. Not a short story. But
I broke into the magazine game to
avoid sacrificing a book during the
depressing time of this war. "
" I like the story very much. How
long will it run? It seems to be quite
different from any you've ever written
before. New York sort of gets into the
blood; doesn't it?"
"Yes, of course. It's the only really
great city we have where the individual
can live life in freedom. My new novels
are all remote from the South. The
Foolish Virgin will run until next
September. "
"Well, I must admit," I said in con-
clusion "I'm somewhat surprised about
the 'secretary' ; I was so sure all writers
had them. I'd thought to some day
become one myself, to some famous
writer, hoping that with the inspiration
of such surroundings to at least realize
my own ambitions to become a novelist."
"Believe me," Dixon emphatically
confided, "the road to a writer's corner
does not lie through the library of any
established author. Avoid them as a
pestilence. The Kingdom is within
you?"
* H= =!:
The Foolish Virgin, meritoriously il-
lustrated by Walter Title, and now
running serially in the Green Book, is
a novel of love at first sight which an-
swers the question: "Does a Girl
Ever Know When the Right Man Comes
Along?"
THOMAS DIXON
Author of "The Leopard's Spots," "The Clansman," "The FooHsh Virgin," Etc.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
221
MRS. WILLIAM N. REYNOLDS
/^NE of North Carolina's best known
^^ and most influential women is the
retiring State Regent of the Daughters of
the American Revolution, Mrs. William
N. Reynolds of Winston-Salem. Atypical
Southern woman of the new type, she
is possessed of a strong personal magne-
tism and accomplishments that readily
place her among the leaders of any
group of women in which she may hap-
pen to be.
Mrs. Reynolds has rare gifts as an
organizer and posesses splendid execu-
tive ability. These things, together
with her graciousness and charm of
manner, have placed her among the
leaders of the numerous organizations
through which she has worked for her
State. She is a woman of broad sym-
pathies and a vision of great things. She
is versatile, tactful, unobtrusive and
cheerful, helping and brightening the
lives of all she touches.
These qualities have made her life
one of service. For ten years she has
been vice-president of the Salem College
Alumnae Association and in this capacity
has rendered great service to her alma
mater. Since its organization, Mrs.
Reynolds has been a mem.ber of the
board of directors of the Stonewall
Jackson Training School, to the work of
which institution she has given much
earnest thought. Mrs. Reynolds is a
club woman of unwaning enthusiasm and
through the organizations of which she
is a member contributes largely to the
social and literary life of her city. A
devoted, and conscientious church mem-
ber, she rounds out her life to a rich full-
ness with religious activities.
It is as a member and officer of the
Daughters of the American Revolution
that Mrs. Reynolds has rendered the
State her greatest service. A charter
member of the Winston-Salem Chapter
of the D. A. R., she has remained an
enthusiastic worker of the organization,
contributing much to the life and work
of the Chapter. A^ Regent of the
Chapter she displayed such remarkable
powers of organization and executive
ability that she was called to the ofhce
of State Vice-Regent, which office she
held for three terms. Mrs Reynolds
was then elected State Regent, which
honorable position she filled most accept-
ably for four years. At the last State
meeting of the D. A. R. held in Durham,
so great was Mrs. Reynolds' popularity
with the members of the organization
that she was unanimously endorsed for
Vice-President General for North Caro-
lina, of the National D. A. R. This
honor Mrs. Reynolds declined, much to
the regret of her numerous friends. Her
term as State Regent expired last April
During the Regency of Mrs. Reynolds,
sixteen Chapters were organized and the
membership of the organization in
North Carolina was increased to almost
one thousand, an unparalleled period of
growth. And throughout the entire
four years remarkable activity has been
shown in the three great objects of the
organization — the perpetuation of the
memory of the spirit of the men and
women who achieved American Inde-
pendence, the acquisition and protec-
tion of historical spots, and the erection
of monuments.
Two tablets, marking historical events,
have been placed in Winston-Salem —
one on the court house for Col. Benjamin
Forsyth, for whom the county is named;
the other on the door of a room in the
old tavern in Salem at which George
Washington spent the night.
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SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
The grave of the Indian Chief Junalu-
ski, whose bravery helped Gen. Jackson
to turn the tide of battle at Horse Shoe
Bend, has been marked.
There has been placed in the campus
at Chapel Hill a stone seat under the
General Davie poplar, the poplar under
which Davie, the "Father of the Uni-
versity", and his party rested while
locating the site for the University.
A sun-dial has been placed in Char-
lotte on the site of the old Liberty Hall.
But the greatest achievement of the
D. A. R's has been the marking of the
Daniel Boone Trail from his home on the
Yadkin River to the Tennesee line, a
distance of 150 miles. This may well
be termed the greatest historical enter-
prise ever started in North Carolina.
Tablets have been placed on boulders,
with this inscription:
"Daniel Boone's Trail,
From North Carolina to Kentucky,
1769
Erected by the North Carolina
Daughters of the American Revolu-
tion."
The places marked are his home near
Yadkin River, Shallowford, Huntsville,
Yadkinville, Wilkesboro, Holman's Ford
Elkville, Three Fork Church, Boone,
Hodges Gap, Grave yard Gap, and
Zionville. These trails show the part
played by North Carolina in opening up
the great North West.
Mrs. Reynolds as Regent, with Mrs.
Lindsay Patterson as Chairman of the
Boone Trail, was indefatigable in meet-
ing promptly all engagements for these
unveilings.
In order to encourage historical re-
search, in reference to the Revolution,
prizes have been offered at the State
Normal and in many of the public
schools for the best essay on a Revolu-
tionary subject. In Winston-Salem, a
silver loving cup was given for the best
eassy on General Joseph Winston, writ-
ten by a pupil of the High School.
At Washington, D. C, North Caro-
lina's column, as one of the original
13 Colonies, stands in the center of the
elegant D. A. R. building.
During the Regency of Mrs. Reynold's,,
the flag of North Carolina was presented
to the D. A. R. building in Washington.
A valuable addition to the history of
our State, is the accurately gotten up
history of Western North Caro-
lina. At present, the Daughters
are engaged in two most interesting
undertakings: The restoration of the
old Wiley Jones house, in Halifax, N. C,
where John Paul added the name of
Jones to his own name, in recognition
of the kindness received from this
family; as "John Paul Jones" he has
gone down in history.
The National D. A. R. are considering
establishing an industrial school for
the descendants of Revolutionary patri-
ots. This historical place, with 100
acres of land will be donated to • the
National D. A. R. by the North Caro-
lina D. A. R. if their offer is accepted to
place this school in North Carolina.
Also plans are on foot for the restora-
tion of old Fort Dobbs at Statesville.
Although no longer interested in the
work of the D. A. R.'s as State Regent,
Mrs. Renyolds' interest in the work of
the organization has not in the least
diminished. The same enthusiasm that
prompted her to keep all engagements
concerning her duties as State Regent
and to labor untiringly for the accom-
plishing of the work undertaken will
continue to exert a great influence in
the organization. Her service to North
Carolina has been great and she is
just now entering upon the full tide of
her popularity and usefuUness.
EDWARD KIDDER GRAHAM
President of the University of North CaroHna
224
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
EDWARD KIDDER GRAHAM
By R. E. P., '98
COINCIDENT with the inaugura-
tion of Edward Kidder Graham as
president of the University of North
Carolina, the head of the State's edu-
cational system becomes, as it were,
actually full fledged. However well
intrenched the University may have
been throughout its more than one
hundred years of power and usefulness
to North Carolina, it is nevertheless to
be proudly admitted that its scope,
equipment, and ideals now assume pro-
portions which its most adrent alumnus,
even a few years ago, would never have
dreamed possible at this time.
Under the leadership of President
Graham, even before his formal induc-
tion into office, and while he was as
acting president of the institution, there
was crystalizing in University alTairs
a broader, better aim and a surer elTort
to put Chapel Hill in the very forefront
of the Nation's educational centers.
Not that the University has ever been
a laggard in the march, but within the
last three years there has been verily
a quickening of every fibre in the Uni-
versity's body both corporate and spiri-
tual.
Service to the State, far beyond the
inculcation of mere book learning, is the
gage Oi educational battle which Presi-
dent Graham and his conferes have taken
up. The Battle lines are far flung in-
deed. It might be said that, instead of
a sentinel surveying the. State from a
lonely mountain top, the University
has become rather as the Good Samari-
tan, going about through the highways
and into even the bypaths to lift the
weak and to minister with all her might
unto even the least opportunities of
her sons and daughters.
In the days to come history will
write large this work, this realization of
broadened ideals for service which Gra-
ham and his unselfish associates are
doing for North Carolina. But even
now, while the work is just crystalizing,
the great heart of the people of North
Carolina has been touched by the nobil-
ity of the conception; and the Uni-
versity's name is on every man's lips.
No longer are the activities of the
University circumscribed, as it were, by
the campus at Chapel Hill. Her long
arm has shaken free from the dull robe
of mere scholasticism and is stretched
forth to the fartherest corner of the
State, bared to the kindly sun or the
fierce tempests — stretched forth for a
hardier, more uplifting work-a-day ser-
vice among the sons and daughters of
men.
President Graham's inauguration
drew together easily one of the most
distinguished bodies of men which has
been gathered in this country. North,
South, East and West proudly took
place in that great company; and it was
as if a coronation ceremony was being
peformed in a staunch educational re-
public, where none was too humble to
do his homage. A conspicuous feature
was the large and representative atten-
dance of alumni, nurtured in the bosom
of Chapel Hill, and who had come back
to pay tribute to the new University.
Not a new University in the sense of
changed ideals, but new in the accom-
plishment of ideals long struggling for
expression in University life.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
225
And a young man has done this thing.
There has been no accident about it
whatever. Graham, the man, is the
perfectly logical development of Graham
the boy. Born and bred of staunch
forbears, he has somehow always stress-
ed the things worth while; and he has
not fought for mere power or pelf.
Young Graham entered Chapel Hill
with the class of 1898, equipped solely
with his public school education, am-
bition and the God-give qualities which
have made him what he is. As a student
he at once exhibited a thoroughness in
every task. Yet there was nothing
pedantic about him. He never strove
for brilliancy. Playing for effect was
utterly foreign to him. Breadth of
mind, almost uncanny clearness of vis-
sion and a passion for fair play to every
man characterized him sharply. Real
humor, fate blessed him with. He won
a place in the critical young democracy
of undergraduate life without any ap-
parent efifort. His strength with his
fellows appeared to be a sort of cumula-
tive strength. First, his immediate
friends discovered that he had a way of
being "right" on questions ever so
often. Next, his class began to remark
upon this quality. Soon, members of
the faculty (and be it remarked right
here that Graham never "played to the
faculty") would refer matters to him
frequently. In the Dialectic Society,
where the students from the West de-
bated in a more or less parliamentray
way, Graham did not by any means
assume to take the floor on every sub-
ject that came up. But now and then
one would hear on the campus a chuckle
over some shaft of truth frequently
barbed with wit that young Graham had
unloosed among the embryonic parlia-
mentarians. He played baseball and
tennis and loafted around the post
office and drug store about on an average
with his associates. Always he took a
real interest in every legitimate acti-
vity around Chapel Hill.
"A strong man — a coming big law-
yer," was the verdict about Graham
in his junior year. Then in a debate,
in which Graham and his colleague
representing Carolina obtained an unan-
imous decision over the University of
Georgia, the future young president of
the University of North Carolina siezed,
clinched, tripple-riveted and for all time
achieved first place in the heart of the
University. And it wasn't his regularly
prepared debate which did this thing.
It was his rejoinder, his extemporaneous
reply to his Georgia opponent. It was
electrical, surcharged with sense, over-
poweringly reasonable and Satanically
crushing. One or two of the strongest
members of the faculty then and there,
it is reported, marked Graham for a
longer stay at the University than even
he himself had dreamed of.
Probably the bar of North Carolina
and the Supreme Court were literally
robbed of a bright ornament just at
this time. Graham at first thought he
was going to study law, but they showed
him the error of his way. Of course
they did not tell him that he was to be
some day president of the University
of North Carolina, for they couldn't
promise that. But they must have
hoped it. If Graham himself had any
idea along that line, he probably com-
municated it to no one. But after he
graduated, taught school and attended
Columbia University, where he ob-
tained his doctor's degree, he returned
to Chapel Hill as an instructor in the
department of English. Within a few
years he became dean. By unanimous
demand, he was looked to as the man
who best understood what the faculty
was trying to do for the student and
simultaneously what the student was
226 SKY LAND MAGAZINE
trying to do for himself. When the frequently heard question. Well, no
cares of administration and long service olifer yet has swerved Graham from his
had grown so heavy upon President Fran- allegiance to Chapel Hill; and there
cis P. Venable that he wished to lay aside have been many calls from other great
the administrative office, only one name institutions which might have tempted
was suggested as his successor. This, the strongest. Those who know him
of course, was Graham. And so this best believe that Carolina will keep
young man, now only in this thirty- this distinguished son of hers for her
eighth year, has buckled on the harness, own work as long as he himself believes
"Can Carolina Keep him?" is the she needs him.
THE WOMAN I LOVE
M. B. Andrews
There are women and women, but this is the one I love:
Without conscious effort, she stands composed and erect: her form was fashion-
ed from flawless material by the master hand of God.
Her large, frank eyes, like the ether above, are perfectly clear; not a blemish in
them is portrayed.
Her tongue cannot utter an unkind word, nor can her lips give expression to
deceit.
She has never committed an act, pondered a thought, or cherished a wish that,
for one moment, she has attempted or even disired maliciously to withold from me.
She sees and knows the world as it is : the sinful, the wounded, the disappointed,
the broken-hearted — her own sisters and brothers, — all make their appeal, and to
each she graciously responds.
As fragrance is to the rose, so music is to her soul : yet she can listen to the wild-
est outbursts of passion or to the tenderest strains of pathos without a quiver of a
muscle in her obdy or a sign of inward emotion.
God is just as real to her as the thunder in the could or as the tender little
violet by the door, and she hears his voice even more often than mine.
Though keenly conscious of the awful pain involved, she never fails to blush
and to smile when she thinks of becoming a warm-hearted mother.
She admires the man in all, but only to me has she promised and given her life;
the mellow colors of the rainbow can hardly be more harmoniously blended than are
her soul and mine.
There are women and women, but this is the one I love.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
227
THE DIAMOND CROP AND THE
WEDDING BELLS
By Chas. Anderson
TN a rail pen built on a little sand
-*- island in Sandy Run branch, a
dozen or more lean shoats were squeal-
ing and fighting over some ears of corn
which a buxom, rosy-cheeked country
girl was tossing to them from a splint
basket. Leaning on the top rail of the
pen she was so absorbed in feeding the
pigs that she did not hear from the
opposite side of the pen the approach of
a tall, pleasant looking man, who held
a slop bucket in his hand.
"Mornin', Susan; fine mornin',"
he called cheerily.
Susan Allen looked up with a start
and a frown formed on her comely face.
"What you doin' here. Hank Smith?
You know this is our mornin' to feed
them pesky ol' hogs," she hurled at the
boy.
Hank's even white teeth showed in
a pleasant smile.
" I'clare fo goodness, Susan, that's
so. An' here I comes a-trapsin' down this
hill a quarter mile with these slops.
I'm sho' gettin' fergetful these days,"
he replied.
"Well, you'd better be a-trapsin' back
up to that shanty with your slops;
if my daddy ketches you a messin'
roun' this pen today he'll fill yo' hide
with buckshot," the spirited Susan
retorted.
"Hoi' on, Susan, 'taint no use a-gettin'
mad. You know I ain't hed nothin'
to do 'ith the rumpuses of them two ol'
growlin' ba'rs," Hank continued, good
humoredly.
"Well, I have, ef you hain't. Hank
Smith; an' don't you call my dad no
ol' ba'r neither," retorted the girl.
"I ax yer pardon, Susan; but it do
'peer to me like a plagued shame the
way our paps is a-carryin' on. Here it
is, winter, spring, and summer, 'ith
your folks and my folks ez thick ez
cold 'lasses. An' jest as soon as fall
comes along a stink raises. Daggon!
I tol 'pap they aughter be some fence
law to keep hogs frum runnin' every-
where. So you see, Susan, I ain't
to fault," Hank conciliated.
"Jest the same you're a big oV
coward not to stick by your dad; an'
anyhow whyn't ol' Bill Smith change
his mark frum a di'mond when he knows,
ourn's a di'mond ; if he'd a-acted with
any sense the sheriff wouldn't hev our
pigs shut up here a-trublin' of me,'"
the girl spit out.
"Sho' am sorry the shoats have trubl-
ed you, Susan; but pap hed the di'mond
crop when your pap moved into this
settlement. Howsoever — Hoi' on! Susan
— I wush they wuzn't a-tryin' to shoot
each other over a passel o'hogs. An'
you knows, Susan, that a few ol' pine-
rooters couldn't make me fall out — "
"What you be about sayin'. Hank
Smith? Jest you shet your mouth; an'
take that!" Susan, flushing angrily,
hurled the contents of a convenient
slop bucket on the unsuspecting Hank
who stood at a distance just right to
be drenched from head to foot.
"Whew! Lar' God! Susan" — from
Hank, as the greasy kitchen water
trickled in dirty streams from his head
to his shoulders to the ground.
228
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
"Whew, what'n tarnation you be
about, Susan?"
An almost imperceptible twinkle
flew into the girl's eyes as she gazed
scornfully at the sorry sight before her.
She looked away, she looked back — a
dainty nose went up at the end, and with
an angry little flirt of her skirts Susan
stamped across the footlog leading
towards the Allen cabin on the hill.
Disconsolate, Hank stood and gaped.
A f ued was on in Sandy Run which had
nigh proved fatal. A glance at the pigs
in the pen showed that each one had a
small diamond cropped from its left
ear. By some unfortunate coincidence
Bill Smith and Tom Allen, next door
neighbors, had each marked his pigs
thus. Accordingly, when rounding up
time came in the fall, each had claimed
a drove of fine shoats that were running
loose in the oak woods. Hot mountain
blood asserted itself, and the neighbors
were on the point of open warfare when
the sheriff interfered. The pigs had been
placed on neutral ground and a day of
settlement before a magistrate had been
set. The neighbors were to take turn
about at feeding the hogs.
The day for settlement was still dis-
tant when Hank and Susan met at the
pen that morning. Afterwards, regu-
larly every other day, at almost the
same instant, a figure might be seen
leaving either cabin on the opposite
hills. To save his life Hank coundn't
remember which was his day to feed
the hogs. And as regularly as they met
the boy pleaded his neutrality and the
girl maintained her spirit and her loyalty
to her "dad." Only, after the meeting,
when she had managed to give Hank
a good drenching with the slops, Susan
had become a little less fiery in her
manners.
"After all," she said to herself,
"Hank ain't sech a bad fellow — an'
I just guess he means well;" and she
heaved a gentle sigh and smiled.
According to the fixed programme, on
the .morning before the settlement was
set to take place, Hank and Susan met
at the pen as usual.
"Morning, Susan. How yo a-feelin'
this mornin'?"
"A-feelin' like you haint got no busi-
ness down here, Hank Smith. Ain't
you larned yit when's yo' time to feed
them hogs?" Susan's words were cut-
ting, but a coy smile took away their
sting.
"O, come, now, Susan, 'tain't no use
a-blufiin' any more; tomorrow one or
t'other o' our paps is a-goin' to git them
shoats, an' I've got a little notion fixed
out for us" Hank replied.
"Call it a-blufiiin' if you want to —
but le's hear your notion, any how,"
Susan retorted.
A broad smile came over Hank's
manly face.
"Susan, you know that little new
cabin me and pap's done built up in the
piney woods — le's me and you drive
them shoats up thar, an — "
"What you a-talkin' about. Hank
Smith?"
"An' say, Susan, I've hearn as how in
the cities they hez di'monds for weddin'
gifts — now, we ain't got no di'monds,
but I'm a-thinkin' them shoats 'ith the
di'mond crops will be some hunky
weddin' gift fer us." Hank was stand-
ing very near Susan when he made this
desperate speech. Susan instantly
straightened up; the hot blood swept
to her face; and she would have given
Hank another drenching — only she
didn't.
Shortly after sunrise the next morning
Tom Allen took the path from his cabin
to the pigpen. His old squirrel rifle
was on his shoulder, and behind him,
three sturdy boys. At almost the same
J
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
229
instant a like array of Smiths' left the
Smith cabin — only Hank was missing.
So measured were the steps of the old
mountaineers, and so nearly halfway
between their cabins was the pigpen,
that each arrived on a side of the branch
at the same time. But lo! the rail pen
was down and the shoats were gone.
Slowly it dawned on either party
that the other had stolen the pigs during
the night. Bill Smith spoke first; and
as he spoke his rifle came to a half rest.
"Tom Allen, you ol' hoss thief, you've
stole them ar chice shoats."
"Bill Smith, you's a lie, you've stole
'em yourself," and Tom's gun also
dropped to a handy position.
"A lie! lie! shouted old man Smith.
And instantly the old squirrel rifles
came to a level.
Either one or both of them would
have been killed on the spot, but just
then a girl's voice screamed, "Dad!
Dad ! and a boy's, Pap ! Pap ! "
The two old mountaineers, surprised
completely, so far forgot their bloody
intentions as to look up. A wagon
loaded with household furnishings, on
top of which sat Hank and Susan — the
wagon drawn by two sleek oxen, had
come up unnoticed.
"Susan, what in devil you a-doin! on
thet cart 'ith that lowlifed Hank Smith?"
exploded old man Allen.
"Hank, what'n hells' this your a-
haulin' roun' 'ith Buck and Ball?"
from old man Smith.
"Now, dad, jus' you be a-shamed o'
your self — Bill Smith hain't stole your
hogs — they's up at mine and Hank's
house," Susan explained.
"An', pap, you ol' bar, jus' you go
over an' shake han's 'ith Tom Allen;
them ar di'monds cropped shoats is
mine and Susan's weddin' gift," Hank
added.
From both banks of the little branch
came the exclamation, "I swar!" And
all the little Smiths and Aliens joined
in the chorus, "I swar!"
^
SPRING
(By J. Robin Aglee)
The pear twigs, Dear, have donned white caps;
On sear sedge, plums are snowing;
Amid the whitened cherry gaps
The spry gteen leaves are showing;
The peach trees pinken distant hills
Where lush green grain is growing;
And Judas trees, by weeping rills.
Their purple griefs are blowing;
The aspen limbs have tassels brown,
To maple's deep vermillion;
And all have springs swift winds endown
With perfume in perfusion;
But all their fragrance fond Time clips
To essence your ripe cherry lips.
230
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
CATS AND SOFORTH
By Fred Vaux
rr^ORD turned in his office chair, and
-'- made a nervless pass at the smoke
that settled down from the ceiling.
"The air's dead; Longstreet, dead as
the conscience of Standard oil. This
is the worst night I've seen in six years.
Its bad on sick folks and little children. "
Longstreet leaned out of the window,
and watched the spark of his cast-a-way
cigar stump, until it faded in the glow
of electric lights of the street below.
" It's well that such nights don't come
often," answered he. "I think I shall
sleep here on this lounge. My bed room
down there, must be like the oven of a
cook- range. "
"I'll go out home directly. It ain't
much better out there. By the way,
have you seen Tom Stone or Mary
Caswell?"
"Not since last Tuesday."
"Why dosen't he marry that girl?"
"Can't say; but I fancy its a character-
istic twentieth century romance. They
prefer their work and each other's com-
panionship, to matrimony and a settle
down. "
"They are out on a big case, I guess.
Tom Stone's a lucky fellow, Dick, and
he's made some lucky hauls in the last
six months. How much, do you reckon,
old Mrs. Starborough paid him to find
that misplaced child of her's. I'll tell
you, for I saw the check. She paid him
twenty thousand; ten for him and ten
for the girl. "
Longstreet whistled. "Wonder if the
old reprobate couldn't think of another
one, she'd misplaced?
"Stone made a good thing of that
diamond cross case, too."
"I didn't see the money, but I heard
so. Well, I am glad to see them get
on so well. We make a pretty good
living ourselves, and we shouldn't be-
grudge him his wind-falls. Listen! Ain't
that some body coming down the hall?"
"There came a knock on the door.
"Come in!" called Longstreet, won-
dering what kind of person it was that
knocked at an office door.
The door opened and a slender woman
of medium height, entered. She was
heavily veiled in black stuff that fell
to her waist and prevented one's forming
an opinion of her age or personal ap-
pearance.
"This is Mr. Ford, is it not?"
"I am Mr. Ford," said Ford, rising
and reaching for his coat. Longstreet,
with more presence of mind, brought
the office rocker, and asked her to be
seated. His collar was off and his
sleeves rolled to the elbow. He, wisely
did not attempt to make his toilet in
the presence of the visitor. The woman,
in the meantime, opened her small
hand-bag and extended her card.
Ford read it.
"Miss Ellen Bronson. What can I
do for you Miss Bronson?"
"I understand, Mr. Ford," said the
lad}^ in guarded tones that might have
belonged to any age, "that you under-
take problems of any magnitude, pro-
vided that there is consideration enough
to compensate you for your trouble."
"So we do. Miss Bronson. We'd
undertake to locate the knob on the
north pole, or place an absconding mer-
maid, for the proper amount of coin,"
answered Ford, a kindly twinkle in his
steady gray eyes.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
231
" I shall not ask you to do so much for
me. I only want to find a cat. "
"A cat." Ford's face fell comically.
"Well, we have a regular department for
the discovery of lost or stolen pets, but
the man in charge has gone home. It's
after regular business hours, you know
However, if you will leave the descrip-
tion, I'll call his attentiion to it in the
morning. "
"But, Mr. Ford, this is not an ordin-
ary case, The cat is a very valuable
cat, as — any cat would — d — d be with
a ten thousand dollar diamond down its
throat. "
"Whew!" exclaimed Ford, springing
upright in his chair, "Longstreet
'phone for Brit! Tell him to come at
once, urgent business. Now Miss Bron-
son, just recall as carefully as you can
any features that might distinguish this
cat from the million others in the city. "
The woman thought a moment.
"The cat is black, a solid black, with
a very small white spot on its chest.
It's a very large male cat, with a very
heavy coat of fur. The color is a dense,
rather than a slick or shiny black."
"A very excellent description so far,
as it goes. Miss Bronson. Any indi-
vidual marks about it? How is its ears,
its eyes, its tail, even its teeth? if you
remember. Anything that would de-
finitely identify it.
"You'll know it by its face. No
cat you ever saw, has a face like it.
It's — it's almost human, Mr. Ford."
A tolarant smile came upon Mr. Ford's
face as she spoke.
"You must have been very fond of
this cat Miss Bronson."
The woman started, and seemed to
peer sharply through her veil.
"But can you tell us the peculiar
cast of this expression; is it happy,
melancholy, careless, or how. Miss
Bronson?"
" I'ts a kind of tolerant, ironical look,
Mr. Ford; and its very — very human."
"All right. Miss Bronson, and now
will you tell me its name, where it was
lost, if it has any old haunts about the
city, where it was raised, in fact, all
about it. "
" It's name is rather unusual for a cat;
he is named. Jack, I lost sight of him
down by the wharves. He was not
raised in this city at all, Mr. Ford,
but in — in England."
"When was it lost?"
"Tonight."
"That's bad. A cat lost on the dock,
especially a handsome one is subject
to all sorts of adventures, such as being
carried off by any of the boats. "
"But he wouldn't — I mean he
wouldn't allow himself to be carried off;
that he'd fight."
"So much the better; but its well you
told us as soon as you did. "
"You'll do the best you can?" asked
the woman, rising to her feet.
"Yes. But just one moment, Miss
Bronson. This case will put us to a lot
of expense and you know — "
"Oh! You mean we must arrange
about the terms. "
"Certainly. It's always best to
arrange such matters at the start, —
then there's never any controversy."
" I want you to use allnecessary means,
regardless of cost; I will be responsible. "
"Of course, but there will be expense
as I say; and before we start — "
"You mean that you would like me
to make a payment in advance."
" It's customary with us, in such cases"
"Tell me the amount."
The woman took a check book out of
her hand bag, and a small fountain pen.
"Two hundred dollars ought to start,
and perhaps cover, expenses. We will
charge you three hundred dollars addi-
tional, should we find the cat.'?'
232
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
The woman drew the check and hand-
ed it to Ford.
"I had been led to think — I mean,
that payment in advance doesn't seem
to be necessary in all cases. "
"It's not," answered Ford, still smil-
ing tolerantly, "with such firms as Stone
and Caswell, who will work on a contin-
gency. Perhaps that's why we arn't
getting rich so fast as they. I'll pro-
mise you that every possible effort will
be made to find your cat as quickly as
possible. May I see you to the ele-
vator?".
"No. Then good night. Miss Bron-
son. But just a moment, let me write
your address on this card, so that we
may 'phone you if we make any pro-
gress. "
The woman gave him a room number
of an uptown hotel.
"Before I go, Mr. Ford, I wish to ask
you not to mention my name in con-
nection with the case, to any one whom-
soever. "
"We should not have done so in any
instance. "
As the door closed behind the woman,
Ford turned to Longstreet: "Notice
anything unusual about this case?"
' ' Yes. I 'd like to know why she start-
ed so at the names of Stone and Caswell
and why she asked you not to mention
her name inconnection with the case,
just afterward. "
"She's hired Stone and Caswell and
perhaps the other agencies. She's anx-
uios about this cat. I'd be myself."
"Then I would like to know why she
hesitated over naming the cat, and telling
where he was raised; and about that
human look in his face. "
"There are seeming contradictions,
my son. Old ladies are apt to see a
human expression in a cat's face, after
they have lived with it until they be-
come especially attached to it. But
now, suppose this woman gets off the
steamer from some foreign country
tonight. You notice she's stopping at
a hotel, and says she lost the cat on the
wharves. Suppose she has diamonds,
and wants to smuggle them in: suppose
she provides herself with a cat or catches
one on the steamer; suppose she pokes
the diamond down his throat, and he
takes the treatment like the ironical
gentleman he is. They can't levy duty
on a cat. In the excitement of the land-
ing ,this cat gets away. It all fits,
dosen't it? That's good enough for a
theory. We don't need any theory.
There's two hundred dollars, and what
we need is the cat. My rule is not to
theorize unless it helps you in the search.
Get busy; that's the idea. I hear Brit
coming into his office. I'll go and get
him started. No, I don't think this
case comes within your province at all. '
Ford went out. Longstreet threw
himself into the rocker occupied by the
late visitor, drew it up to the window,
leaned back and closed the lids over his
long gray eyes. The brows above them
protruded in high bony arches; and his
long forehead ran into a point at either
side.
"Longstreet," as Ford humorously
observed, "is the highest paid man in
the offtce. He just imagines so and so,
and draws proportionate parts of the
profits. "
Longstreet was the member of the
firm who theorized. Ford's agency was
equipped with men of all qualities of
intellect, as well as men without any,
who did the mechanical part of the work.
"This case, despite Ford's practical
view of it, had aroused Longstreet's
imagination. The veiled appearance of
the woman, the uncertain story of the
cat; Ford's suppositions were probably
the plain and practical facts; but Long-
street possessed sense of intuition, which
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
233
was really a subtle mental power of
feeling other people's personality, feeling
— not reasoning — whether or not they
told the real facts, which his vivid
imagination aided him to picture in
definite outlines. This sense of intui-
tion refused to believe that this woman
had spoken the truth about this cat.
Longstreet was certain that there was
something, weightier even than stolen
jewels, behind her story. With his
intellect concentrated almost to the
point of self -hypnotism, he set to work
revolving the events in his mind. Every
attitude, word, gesture, or inflection of
speech, passed vividly through his mind,
each questioned, and stood aside or
reserved for further testimony. At last
he took up his hat and went out, without
thinking of coat or collar. At Ford's
every man worked in his own way and
used the machinery of the office when
necessary. Longstreet made his way
to the wharves, with the intention of
ascertaining, what French steamers had
arrived, that evening. None had arrived
within the last two days, but one was
expected later that night. A liner in
from Hamburg, touching in the Bay of
Biscay.
At the gateway of the dock, Long-
street came upon Brit with a sack in
his hand.
"How is the search progressing?"
"Can't say, yet. There son! Don't
put that cat in the sack! Turn the
thing loose. I don't want a one eyed,
pie-bald, polly cat. Go back to your
beat and bring me a black Tom."
The wharf gamin went away with a
leer at Longstreet that was meant to be
humorous.
Brit continued: "When I get this sack
full I empty it in that chicken-coop.
Smith is down on Turbine street; and
Scott's over on Schooner avenue. John-
son's going the rounds of the cat dealers.
We'll have the officers full of cats by
morning. Here! Here!" A bleeding
gamin approaching the spot, seemed on
the point of releasing a refractory black
cat. "Drop him in the sack. Next
time put his head under your arm and
hold to his feet with both hands. It
beats heaven and earth, how little sense
some reputed human beings have. See
him try to handle that half-tiger like
it was a newborn infant?"
Brits' sack became suddenly agitated.
He caught it close about the struggling
cats, and squeezed them into submission.
Longstreet boarded the car for the
hotel, which the woman had given as her
address. In the lobby he met an eager
faced young woman dressed in a light
linen working suit.
"Miss Caswell, of all women, I
thought some thing had dropped you
into the harbor. Where have you been
this week?"
"How are you Mr. Longstreet? I'll
bet my next fee that I know why you
are here. Well, you won't find her; she
hasn't been here. Miss Ellen Bronson
is a mith ; a city boogerboo like the mar-
ble-headed giant."
"So she did employ you, Miss Cas-
well."?
"Did employ me? Well I guess.
You know, Mr. Longstreet, we work on
a commission in such large cases as
this'and we left a nice little house rob-
bery, right in the heat; gave it bodily
to the police. And now we have a pen
full of black Billy-goats, with a white
diamond in their forehead. All ba! ba!
and their owners due at any moment.
And nowhere can we find this precious
Miss Bronson."
"What, goats? I thought it was cats. "
"Cats! Oh! Oh!" laughed the girl.
"So she told you cats. Wei she told
Pendleton black poodles with a white
spot in their breast. And, Oh my, they
234
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
have a warehouse full of whining, shimp-
ering, poodles, all for inspection. And
Winham — what do you think she told
Winhan. She told him that she had
dropped the diamond on the streets of
Watertown, and that a black hen, with a
white feather in its wing, had swallowed
it, and ran away. You know Winham,
how enthusiastic he can get over a big
job. Well he hired a squad of coons
from Darkside. They went through
Watertown, bagged three car loads of
poultry, and half a pound of assorted
shot, between them. Get your cats
Mr. Longstreet! We'll turn the bunch
together, and if we ever find Miss Bron-
son, welll loose her among them and
have her crazier than she undoubtedly
is. But come, Stone, Pendleton and
Winham are all over at your office;
they were certain that you were in it.
Lets catch the next car."
Ford's office was filled with tobacco
smoke, and bad language.
"You can sit there Ford," stormed
Stone, "and look like Solomon; just
because you have a worthless check
on your hands, instead of a pen full of
mad billy-goats with their owners look-
ing for you with bricks and pick-handles
Just wait till you try to cash it in the
morning."
"Well I ,am going on raking together
black cats, and Fd advise you. Stone, to
hold to your goats. Some of these
various varmints have without doubt,
done the poor lady an injury that has
driven her crazy. And the man who
can show her the right critter, is the one
who will put her in her right mind, and
collect. It's my experience that a'
check is generally good, whether the
maker is sane or insane. I haven't
had but three bad checks in all my
business career. "
"Four, you mean," suggested Pendle-
ton, delicately.
"Gentlemen, circumstantial evidence i
goes to prove that there is something in |
this woman's story." continued Ford,
doggedly. "She told you, Stone, to
get black and white goats. Where?
in Watertown. And you dogs, Pendle-
ton. Where? Why in the vicinity of
Watertown. And you Winham; "a
roar from the room at large interrupted
Ford. "She told you to collect the
black and white hens of Watertown. She
wants me to get black and white cats J
off the dock, which of course will in- "
elude Watertown. No, there's some-
thing more than just a fool whim in it. "
"Think it out, Mr. Longstreet,"
urged Miss Caswell; as :Longstreet seat-
ed himself upon a coop full of cats, and
pushed back the hair from his strikingly
shaped forehead.
"I know what I am going to do,"
said Ford, "I am going to put the police
on the hunt for this woman, and I am
going to help them. Fd advise you
to do the same. There's no doubt
that she's crazy now, but the sight of our
assorted collection — " "Will fix her,dog-
gone her," said Winham, savagely,
looking longingly towards a cushioned
chair; then walking to and fro across
the room with a kind of rolling halt; \
as Ford telephoned particulars to the I
police. Stone sat and grinned at Win-
ham's gait, until Pendleton poked him
in the side to call his attention to a check.
Stone sprang up with an exclamation.
"Bill-goats' heads arn't cushioned."
said Miss Caswell briefly turning away
to look out at the window.
Pendleton and Ford compared checks
They were both for two hundred dollars,
but upon difTerent banks.
The police were interested in the affair.
A sergeant came over for further parti-
culars. Later, the entire force were put
on the search. The private detectives,
with the exception of Ford's cat brigade,
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
23 5
aided. The night passed. Eight
o'clock came, and still no news.
As if by common consent, the heads
of the detective agencies again gathered
at Ford's office. It was a dusty, sleepy,
ill-tempered set. Winham had been
relieved of some No. eight shot, and felt
a bit easier; but Stone's back would not
bend under any conditions. No one
said anything. They sat on coops of
cats and waited for the next one to
speak.
At that moment the door opened, and
a red-faced sergeant came in with a note
in his hand.
"Read this, gentlemen, and may the
devil take it."
Longstreet took the note from his
hand, cleared his throat, and calmly
read the typewritten contents.
"Dear Sirs of the Detective and Police
Force: You need not longer hold in
confinement the poor dumb brutes you
have gathered at what was, no doubt.
a great annoyance to them. We are
all sorry for the poor beasts, but it
could not be helped Stone and Cas-
well were too close on our trails for com-
fort, and we had to set you to doing
something else while we got away.
Again expressing our sympathies for the
poor animals.
We are yours as ever,
ELLEN BRONSON,
"Alias, the Watertown House Breaking
Gang. "
"The six men and the one woman
looked into each other's faces; and there
was one short and unanimous comment. ''
In the silence that followed, Long-
street pushed his hands through his
hair:
"I'd like to hire the person that in-
vented that ruse.'
"I wouldn't said Ford. "I don't
want him to ever take to the detective
business as long as I have to make a
living that way."
Statement of the Ownership
Management, Circulation, Etc., of Sky-Land, Stories of Picturesque North Carolina,
Published Monthly at Winston-Salem, N. C, Required by the Act of August 24, 1912.
Name of Editor: Mae Lucile Smith.
Postoffice Address: Winston-Salem, N. C.
Publisher: Mae Lucille Smith, Winston-Salem, N. C.
Business Manager: R. E. Walker.
Owner: Mae Lucille Smith.
Known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders, holding one per cent, or rriore of
total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities: None.
Signature of Editor, publisher, business manager, or owner: (Signed) Mae Lucile Smith, Editor and
Owner, Sworn to and subscribed before me this the fifteenth day of March, 1915.
C. S. Fullbright.
Notary Public. .
(My commission expires, April 8, 1916.)
236 SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
THE SOUL OF ADAM
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS
By Hilliard Booth
CHARACTERS
Bruce Wolff A Forester
Ross Laneham A Minister
Sam Creasman A Mountaineer's Son
Tate Jarret A Mountaineer
Peeb .....Inn Boy
Stage Driver
NisiE Creasman : Sam's Mother, a Widow
Callie Jarret Tate's Sister
Marion Eraser An Invalid
Miss Van Dusen Marion's Aunt
SYNOPSIS
ACT I — Nisie Creasman's Cabin on Little River.
ACT 11^ — The same; a month later.
ACT III — Buck Forest Hotel; four months later.
ACT IV — Nisie Creasman's Cabin; soon after.
Time: 1900 Place: Western North Carolina
ACT II
Scene: Miss Creasman's Cabin on Little Bruce (Adjusting the laurel and ris-
River — a month later. The room is ing) : There!
decked with mountain laurel: the Marion (Dropping the lid of the
flowers are over doors and windows, suitcase as she faces him) : There!
The open window lets in a flood Bruce: Ready to go?
of warm sunshine: the mountains Marion: Just my hat to put on.
are seen flushed with green. Bruce (Nearing her) : Something
Discovered : Marion Eraser is discovered else first.
standing by the table, on which is an Marion (meeting him) : What else,
open and packed suitcase. She wears furrester?
a blue serge traveling suit: she appears Bruce: Promise to stand by nie in
in perfect health. Bruce Wolff is sickness and health — till death us do
descovered on his knees before the part.
hearth, banking the laurel in the fire- Marion: Only until then, Bruce?
place. He is dressed in khaki. As Bruce: Marion! (Kisses her ten-
the curtain ascends, Nisie Creasman derly.)
is heard from the next room untune- Marion: (Her hands on his soulders
fully singing a gospel song. "There's as he releases her): But you aren't
a great day coming — are you ready?" ready. (Looking at his clothes) Where
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
237
are your concession to conventionality?
Bruce: Nisie is still wrestling with
the wrinkles.
Nisie (Heard singing): "There's a
great day coming — are you ready?"
Bruce (Regarding Marion with love-
light in his eyes) : The great day is here.
(He pulls out his watch) With a whole
hour to wait!
Marion : Bruce, let's build a summer
house up on the hill yonder, a log house
in the woods, a big rambling house in
which we can get away from the world.
Bruce: Away from the world?
(Laughing) I thought your idea was to
have me return to it!
Marion (Smiling) : I am already
jealous of it.
Bruce: There's not so much in the
forest as I thought there was. I'm glad
I'm leaving it.
Marion: The forest is beautiful,
Bruce.
Bruce: We'll have that log house
in a year's time — when I've earned it.
Until then — there's a fine old garden
about the house I've taken in Atlanta.
Marion: And a high wall about the
garden?
Bruce: And a small gate in the high
wall.
Marion (Smiling) : And Saint Peter
sitting by the gate?
Bruce (Shaking his head with a
laugh as he draws a bunch of keys from
his pocket and jingles them): I'm not
taking any chances! (Returning keys
to pocket, as Marion laughs) I ran into
old man Billings down there — he offered
to take me into his offie.
Marion: You accepted?
Bruce (Shaking his head) : He was
in such a hurry to lend a hand that I
figured that was just what he wanted to
do.
Marion: What?
Bruce: Take me in. And I opened
an evening paper to find a column ac-
count of the opening of an Atlanta law
office by Bruce Wolff, son of the well-
known legal luminary, and social hip-
hurray of New York.
Marion: And you never showed me
the article?
Bruce: Never kept it. I've got two
letters on the strength of it. (He takes
letters from his pocket) : Prospective
clients^and a letter from Dad.
Marion: He saw the article?
Bruce (Handing her letter) : He
must have.
Marion (Glancing it over) : Splendid !
We'll have him visit us. (Returns him
the letter.)
Bruce (Returns letters to his pocket)
And your Aunt.
Marion: Oh, Auntie will never come.
I've disgraced the family.
Bruce: By mayrring me?
Marion: By marrying you down
here. I've given Auntie a terrible
shock, Bruce.
Bruce: And Laneham?
Marion: I believe Ross really loves
me.
Bruce: Then — since I have you —
I'm sorry for him. (Looking at watch)
What keeps the fellow?
Marion: What fellow?
Bruce: The minister.
Marion: Oh!
(Nisie enters R, a sprig of white
flowers in her hand.)
Nisie: Yuh got the room fixed up
real pretty! Your clothes is ready,
furrester.
furrester. (Offering spring to Marion)
Blooms fer the bride — jest out.
Marion (Taking it: Where did you
get them, Nisie?
Nisie (Pointing through window) :
Off'n that stinkin' old tree in the yard.
Marion: Why they're fragrant!
Nisie (Nodding) : Makes the whole
238
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
yard smell jest as sweet!
Bruce: They're from Neal's tree.
NisiE (Nodding) : Neal's mother
wuz fifty years old when he wuz born,
an' Neal's daddy planted that flowerin'
twig because uv it.
Marion: Fifty years old !
NisiE: Frank Wheeler's mother wuz
fifty-five when he wuz born!
Bruce: She isn't old yet.
NisiE: An' Isaac's mother wuz nine-
ty years old when he wuz born!
Marion (Speaking simultaneously
with Bruce): Goodness!
Bruce: Ninety years?
Bruce and Marion (Together) : Who
was Isaac?
(Nisie gives them a withering glance.)
Nisie: Isaac wuz the son uv Sarah.
Marion (With a mock withering
glance at Bruce) : Sarah was the wife
of Abraham.
Bruce: B-r-r-r! I reckon it's time
for me to dress. Old lady McGaha and
Sarah were both fine women, Nisie.
Nisie: Children of the Lord!
Bruce (To Marion, looking at his
watch): Three quarters of an hour.) He
goes into the next room.)
Marion: Oh Nisie — isn't it all won-
derful?
Nisie: You're a good man an' a good
woman come together — that's natural.
(Callie Jarret enters at the house door,
dressed slovenly, but has donned stock-
rgs and has soild ribbon in her hair.)
Callie: Is he come yet?
Marion: You're just in time for the
wedding, Callie.
Callie: Is he a-goin' ter marry me
today?
Nisie: Who air you a-thinkin' uv,
Callie Jarret?
Callie: Sam.
Marion (As Nisie starts) : Sam isn't
home.
Nisie (Grimly): I ain't expectin' uv
Sam home!
Callie: Hin't yur? Well, Sam write
me he wuz a-comin'. (Triumphantly
takes a postcard from dress, and hands it
to Marion. Marion starts to hand it tO'
Nisie).
Nisie: If it air in truth frum Sam,,
woman; read it!
Marion (Reading card) : " Helo Cal
lie — how air yuh? I've seen things out
here, an' yuh kin look fer me Wednesday
Come on over an' git married. Tell
ma ter feed up the hounds good. I am
well. How air yuh? — Sam."
Nisie (Wrought up) : He never sent
it . . . Wednesday! That's today . . .
Sam's card ter me must a-been lost
Yuh'll be no wife ter my son, Callie
Jarret!
Callie: I'll trust Sam ter do me
right, Nisie Creasman.
Marion (As Nisie starts to reply) :
Nisie, Nisie, no harsh words today.
Nisie: He ain't a-comin'!
Marion: This is my wedding-day,
Callie.
Callie: Fer sure?
Marion (Nodding) : I want your pic-
ture befoe I go — (Takes kodack from
suitcase) Out on the hillside, by the
cedar — with the mountains in the back-
ground. (Lays card on table.)
Callie: Yes'm. (Goes toward the
house door.)
Nisie: He ain't a-comin'!
Callie: I'm glad I put on my red
rubbon! Goes out at house door.)
Marion: No harsh words today.
Nisie. Tell Bruce I'm picking out a
building-site. (Goes out the house door)
(Nisie crosses quckly to table, takes
up postcard, scans it eagerly — her lips
moving as she reads it. Sam's heard ofif
whistling and calling to the hounds.)
Sam: Here Rock, here Lead! (Nisie
hears, and turns rear, excited. Sam
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
239
appears at the window, beating off the
hounds.)
Sam: Down thar, down! Hello Rock.
(Seeing Nisie) Hellow maw; Hello Lead.
Nisie: Sam!
(Sam valuts in through the window:
dressed in store clothes, pressed, but
mud-marked, hair cut, new tie, and
muddy boots.)
Sam: Them hounds is a-right glad
ter see me back. (Looking around)
Trimmed up fer the weddin'? (As Nisie
nods) Callie come?
Nisie: Fer the furrester's weddin'
with Miss Marion.
Bruce: Her marryin' him? (Laughs.)
Nisie (Preparing to meet the situa-
tion calmly) : Callie's come, Sam.
Sam: I reckon thar'll be room fer
three uv us here. Maw. Callie an' I'll
take th' —
Nisie (Interrupting) : Callie Jarret's
no fit wife fer yuh, Sam.
Sam: Why fore not?
Nisie: She ani't got no car-racter.
Sam: Yuh never did like Callie,
Maw, but —
Nisie (Interrupting) : I know whut
I air a-talkin' uv! Miss Marion told
me Callie wuz aimin' ter marry yuh, an'
I walked over th' mountain ter Teller's
Creek, askin' question uv all and airy I
met .... Tate went a-huntin' one
night last winter, an' told Callie he'd
be out till sun-up. Bud Sawyer heard
him, an' Bud Sawyer come by agin ter
see a feller askin' Callie fer Tate, an'
Callie told him Tate'd be back airy
minute, ter come in an' wait; an' Callie
alone in th' cabin.
Sam: Who wuz the feller?
Nisie: I take it that's why Callie's
so set on marryin' yuh, Sam.
Sam: Who wuz he?
Nisie: Will yuh marry a girl what
ain't got no car-racter Sam?
Sam: No, by gar! What feller wuz
it?
Nisie (As the house door opens) :
Ask Callie.
(Callie enters. Smiles as she sees
Sam)
Callie: I got yer pretty postcard,
Sam. (Crosses toward him.)
Sam : Who wuz the feller yuh lodged
last winter when Tate wuz a-huntin'
till sun-up?
(Callie, taken by surprise, meets
Sam's gaze, crestfallen. Then she turns
and looks into Nisie's accusing eyes.)
Nisie: Who wuz he?
(Callie looks swiftly to Sam agin, and
in his expression reads her condemna-
tion. She falters. — )
Callie: I love you true ,Sam.
Sam: Bud Sawyer heard Tate tell
yuh he'd be gone till sun-up.
Callie (Meekly) : I wuz all alone,
Sam; nary one nigh ter help me.
Sam : Bud Sawyer heard yuh ask the
feller in ter wait fer Tate, heard yuh
tell him Tate'd be back airy minute.
Callie (Sinking to chair and covering
her face with hands) : I wuz lonely,
Sam.
(Nisie turns away with a nod of
satisfaction. Sam sneers.)
Nisie: Ther'U be no talk uv this
fun us, Callie Jarret, so as yuh git Sam
out uv your mind. (She goes into the
next room.) (Sam shrugs.)
Callie (With a dry sob): I love
you true, Sam.
Sam : Yuh asked him in ! . . . Who
wuz he?
Callie: One uv the furresters.
(As Sam sneers agin, Marion enters
at the house door, winding up kodak.
She puts it in suitcase as she speaks.)
Marion: Why, hello Sam. Did you
get to New York?
Sam: . I reckon I see everything
thar wuz ter see right thar in Greenville.
240
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Marion: This is my wedding day,
Sam. (To callie) When is your wed-
ding with — (Seeing CalUe's grief) What
is it, Callie?
Callie (Rising): Thar hain't goin'
ter be no weddin.'
Marion: No Wedding? (Looks at
Sam.)
Sam: The Jarrets alwuz wuz a poor
lot, I'll say that fer 'em. (As Marion
looks questioningly at Callie, and back
at Sam) She ain't got no car-racter.
(Marion turns quickly to Callie.
Callie bursts into tears, and runs out
at the house door.)
Marion: (Distressed): Sam! Sam!
it may not be true.
Sam (With a shrug) : She allows it's
so. One uv the furresters.
Marion: One of the foresters? I
don't believe it. Nisie is jealous of Cal-
lie. There's some misunderstanding.
(Speaking off) Bruce! (To Sam) Bruce
will know. Go after Callie, Sam. Tell
her to wait.
Sam Shrugging): The Jarrets alwuz
wuz a poor —
Marion (Commanding) : Tell Callie
to wait!
Sam: Yes'm. (Exits slowly at the
house door.)
(As he does so, Bruce enters from the
next room, wearing a comfortable-look-
ing serge sack suit.)
Bruce: Preacher here?
Marion: There's a misunderstanding
Bruce, between Callie and Sam. Sam
says that one of the boys, one of the
foresters — Sam refuses to marry Callie
because of him. You know it can't be so
don't you Bruce?
(Bruce, composed, looks at her search-
ingly as he nears her. Apprehensive,
she draws away.)
Marion: It is so?
Bruce (Quitely) : You know it's so
. . . You knew it a month ago.
I knew it? (She stares at
you
Marion:
him.)
Bruce: You said Callie told
.... You said you forgave me.
Marion: Forgave you? (backing
away as she understands) You?
Bruce: You said you knew — under-
stood that I acted without thought,
reason ; that I wasn't altogether to blame.
Marion: I never knew — I never un-
stood.
Bruce (Doggedly) : You forgave me.
Marion: I forgave you your attack
on the ofificer in New York.
Bruce: What was there to forgive in
that?
Marion: Oh! (Sinks in chair,
shocked.)
Bruce (Close to her, earnestly) :
Look here, Marion, 1 never meant to
hide this from you. I want everything
right between us. I thought everything
was right .... I went there to look
for Tate. Callie asked me in to wait for
him. I found out afterwards she knew
Tate wouldn't be back. It was before
you came. I told you I'd lived like a
beast of the fields. I'm sorry for what
I've done — sorry and ashamed.
Marion (Rising) : That doesn't
make matters right, Bruce.
Bruce: No. It just clears things be-
tween us.
Marion: Yes . . . I've learned in
time.
Bruce: In time?
Marion: I can't marry you, Bruce
Bruce: Marion!
Marion: It wouldn't be right.
Bruce (Calm, with an effort) : Why
not right?
Marion (With difficulty) : Not right
— to Callie. '
Bruce: I don't know that.
Marion (Self-controlled) : I would
be guilty if I married you — guilty of Cal-
lie's misery.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
241
Bruce: How'll Callie suffer?
Marion: There's only one way to
make matters right, Bruce: don't you
see?
Bruce: No.
Marion: Bruce, you must marry Cal-
He.
(Bruce laughs harshly.) - -■
Marion: Don't you understand?
Bruce: If I can't have you for wife,
I'll have no-one: when you leave here,
I'll follow you, I'll stay near you. I'll —
Marion (Interrupting): Bruce!
Bruce: Do you think I'm going to
give you up like this — now — give you up
for a girl who — (Stops short.)
Marion A girl who has a right to
your protection.
(A pause.)
Bruce (Controlled again) : And then?
Marion: Practice law among the
mountain people ; help these people ; there
is work here that is worth while.
Bruce: And our happiness?
Marion: I couldn't be happy with
you, Bruce: I should be thinking of Cal-
lie; I would suffer for Callie.
Bruce: You can't forgive me?
Marion: I can't marry you.
Bruce: You told me a girl forgives
a lot in a man she loves.
Marion: This would always be be-
tween us.
Bruce: You don't care enough — to
forgive me?
Marion : If I thought only of myself,
or selfish happiness; if I were selfish —
(Her vioce breaks.)
Bruce (Pleading) : Marion!
Marion (Her voice firm again): I'ts
your future I think of.
Bruce: My future — -I can't see it!
Marion: Bruce, your future is in
your own hands to work out. I've
showed you the way. There is some-
thing finer than worldy success — self-
respect, character, a clear conscience.
Bruce, your salvation lies in your own
hands.
Bruce: If you go North, I'll follow
you: I'll be near you.
Marion: You will never see me. (She
faces him squarely) I am Callie's
friend.
Bruce . . . Not mine?
Marion If you want my friendship,
my forgiveness, marry Callie ;make good.
(A pause).
Bruce (Low): If I can't have you
for wife, I'll have no-one.
(Marion turns away, takes up her hat
from a chair, and puts it on; her hands
shake as she runs in the pins. Bruce
watches her a second, and turns away,
despair in his heart. He stands by the
mantle, his head bowed. Marion sees
his grief, and moved, starts toward him.
arms outstretched, but quickly controls
herself. Bruce turns without having
seen her movement.)
Bruce: Callie was ready to marry
Sam.
(For reply, Marion goes to the house
door, opens it, and speaks off.)
Marion: Callie!
(Bruce starts forward in protest. Cal-
lie enters at the house door. Bruce ig-
nores her, keeping his eyes on Marion.)
Marion: I am not to be married,
Callie. . . . Was it because of Bruce
Wolff you were going to marry Sam?
(Callie, surprised, looks from Marion
to Bruce.)
Callie: Yes'm. (Bursts into tears,
and sinks down on chair.)
Marion: You — you would make
him a faithful wife?
(Callie's tears stop suddenly; she
looks at Bruce in amazement.)
Callie: Him?
(Marion nods. Callie, dazed, looks
at Marion, and nods violently. She
grasps the situation ; her tears flow again)
Callie: I luv you true, furester.
242
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
(Marion's eyes meet Bruce's squarely.
His objection has been answered.)
Bruce (Speaking low) : Not that,
Never.
(Nisie enters from the next room.)
Nisie: The preacher's a-comin' over
the cut-off. You've got about ten min-
utes, Miss Marion.
Marion: We're not — to marry.
(Nisie looks quickly at Bruce. He
nods. Nisie looks at Callie; then again
at Bruce. She nears him questioningly.
Bruce nods slowly. Nisie, understand-
ing, stops, shaken.)
Nisie ^Distressed): Furrester!
(The rattle of the nearing stage is
heard, and the call of the driver.)
Driver (Heard calling) : All a-
board fer Buck Forest, Penrose, and
and the cy-ars!
(Marion turns quickely, snaps and
fastens her suitcase.)
Bruce (Low, stunned): Good God!
(As the rattle of the stage nears,
Marion steps to the house door, and nods
off. Stage heard stopping.)
Driver (Heard calling) : Whoa thar.
Pepper-box.
(Marion Crosses toward Bruce.)
Marion: Bruce, Bruce for my sake,
if not for your own, do what is right.
Marry Callie: make good.
Nisie (Stung into action as Bruce
remains silent): That ain't a-right,
Miss Marion!
(As Bruce does not answer, Marion
ignoring Nisie's words, turns to her
holds out her had.)
Marion (To Nisie) : Good bye.
Nisie (Seizing Marion's hand, and
holding it) : It ain't a-right fer yuh ter
leave the furrester because uv Callie.
It ain't a-right.
Marion (Freeing herself quickly, pro-
testing): Nisie, Nisie!
(The stage-driver enters at the house
door. Marion indicates her suitcase.
Driver picks it up, and goes out with it.
Marion starts to follow him.)
Bruce: Marion!
(He crosses quickly toward her, his
arms outstretched. Marion turns and
faces him, resolute. Bruce stops close
to her, silently pleading with her.)
Marion: There's only one right
way, Bruce.
(She turns and goes out at the house
door. Bruce's arms fall to his side.)
(Callie snififlles.)
Nisie (Tears in her eyes): It ain't
a-right; it ain't a-right.
Driver (heard calling) : Yes, ma'am.
Git ap, thar. All aboard fer Buck For-
est, Penrose and the cy-ars!
(The rattle of stage heard as it moves
away. Bruce stands looking after it.
Nisie gazes straight before her, listening
to the departing stage. Callie lifts her
head, listening. Bruce's hands clench.
The three remain motionless until the
rattle of the stage dies away in the dis-
tance. Then Nisie, resentful, turns on
Callie.)
Nisie: Now Callie Jarret, yuh light
out uv here quick, an' when I say quick-
(As Callie looks up, frightened, Bruce
turns quickly.)
Bruce (Decisively): No. (Looks at
Nisie, who, impressed by his manner,
pauses abruptly.)
Bruce: She said if I wanted her
friendship — her friendship's something,
isn't it, Nisie? ... I want to do what's
right . . . With God's help, I'm going
to make good.
(He crosses to Callie.)
CURTAIN.
(To be continued)
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
243
ALAMANCE COUNTY IN INDUSTRIAL
NORTH CAROLINA
A MONG the counties of North Caro-
■^ ^ Hna, Alamance occupies an unique
position industrially, especially in the
development of the State's textile manu-
facturing interests. The first colored
cotton goods manufactured south of
the Mason Dixon line were manufactur-
ed in the old Alamance Mills, established
in 1837 by the late Edwin M. Holt.
There are now twenty-five cotton mills
in Alamance county and with a few ex-
ceptions they are all the direct descend-
ants of this mother of mills.
The Holt family remained in the
cotton manufacturing industry; and
today the majority of the textile interests
in Almance county are owned and con-
trolled by the descendants of Edwin M.
Holt, the pioneer of North Carolina's
textile industry, and collateral relatives
of his branch of the family. Large
interests are also held by them in other
parts of this State and in South Carolina.
The position of this family in the devel-
opment of the cotton manufacturing
interests of the State is unique and its
place in them is large.
In addition to the twenty-five cotton
mills in Alamance county , there are today
more than an equal number of other
enterprises of a wide variety with an
annual pay-roll of $583,000. And
while it is impossible to give a write-up
of each individual manufacturing interest
in the county, there follow sketches of
the development, work and conditions
of a number of the cotton mills in the
county, which will be exceedingly in-
teresting in view of the fact that they
are an accurate and unprejudiced ac-
count of things and conditions, giving
the public certain facts usually unmen-
tioned in articles on cotton mills and the
conditions that obtain in them.
Alamance county is also rich in tradi-
tion and historv. The storv of the
"^w
■ • . '■•' Xr.
■^
^ /\
" , ■ - , ■ -- •:/
■• ; i*
^jfim^j^^KKL
y^Xii- ■■- '-''
Photograph of the Battle of Alamance, from the Original Drawing by J. Steeple
Davis — Ellis History of Our Country.
244
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Memorial Tablet to James Pugh, One of the Regulators
Condemned at Hillsboro, Erected at the
Guilford Battle Grounds.
County is the story of the struggle for
liberty in the South. Before patriots
of New England fired on British soldiers,
the Regulators had defied Governor
Tryon. The first battle of the Revolu-
tion, the Battle of Almance, was fought
on the soil of this county in 1771.
GLENCOE AND THE COUNTRY
GENTLEMAN
T OCATED on Haw R*ver, three
-*— ' miles North of Burlington, is the
picturesque village of Glencoe. It has
grown up around the Glencoe CottOn
Mills, one of North Carolian's most
interesting and progressive manufac-
turing enterprises.
The mill was founded in 1879 by
Messers. William E. and James H. Holt,
sons of Edwin M. Holt. Mr. James
H. Holt, who planned the erection,
managed the plant until his death in
1897 when he was succeeded by his son,
Mr. Robert L. Holt, who is the President
and manager of the mill.
Glencoe, like so many of the other
mills in Alamance county and other
parts of the Sate, is a descendent of the
old Alamance Mills, founded in 1837
by Mr. Edwin M. Holt — the first mill
south of the Mason and Dixon line to
manufatcure colored cotton fabrics.
The principal building of the Glencoe
plant consists of a three-story brick
structure. In it are located the carding.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
245
spinning and weaving departments.
Buildings that have been added to the
original one are occupied by the dyeing
and finishing departments. The plant
operates six thousand spindles and two
employes work in the Glencoe mills;
and the conditions under which they
work have rendered them a prosperous,
happy, healthy, contented people. The
mills are well lighted and ventilated.
Monument in Commemoration of First Battle of the
Revolution, the Battle of Alamance, Fought in 1771, Nine
Miles from Burlington. British Numbered 1100, Killed
and Wounded 81, Regulators Numbered 2000, Killed
and Wounded 200.
hundred looms. The product is a high
grade of napped fabrics, popularly
known as Franklin flannels, in all colors
and designs. Power is furnished by a
modern hydro-electric plant.
More than one hundred and fifty
Pure water is supplied and the general
laws of sanitation are strictly observed.
The result is that an epidemic of ty-
phoid or other disease arising from lack
of proper observance of the laws of
sanitation, is unknown in the village,
246
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
that consumptives are not to be found
amo^g the operatives and that the so-
called textile anaemic has never develop-
ed there.
One watching these peeople going to
and from their work, and also at their
employment in the mills, is impressed
with the fact that they are a care-free,
happy people to whom the world is
yielding up a large share of the health,
pleasures and comforts of life. Upon
investigation it is learned that some of
the older persons among the employes
worked in the old Alamance Mills for
the grand-father of Mr. Robert L. Holt,
their present manager. Some of them
have children, and others grandchildren,
working in the mills. Many of them
have been living at Glencoe since the
founding of the mills in 1897. Num-
bers of them have comfortable savings
accounts in the Burlirgton banks; and
even the automobile is not a rare, un-
known luxury with the more thrifty of
the operatives. Here they have lived
the better part of their lives, worked and
prospered. And to these people the
best loved place on earth is Glencoe and
the best man in the world Mr. Robert L.
Holt, who has lived with them and work-
ed with them for twenty-five years, who
knows every man, woman and child in
the village by name and who is not an
unfamiliar figure in their homes and at
their social and religious gatherings.
When the Glencoe Mills were es-
tablished, the owners conceived the
idea of controlling the land surrounding
them and in pursuance of this policy
purchased an area of Land containing
three square miles. The property still
belongs to the company and is controlled
by its management. Streets were laid
out and houses for the operatives were
erected by the owners of the plant. So
the village is owned and controlled by
the owners of the plant.
In laying out the village, ideas of
beauty and attractiveness played a
large part. Located on twin hills, each
sloping towards the river, the houses of
the village are built along two principal
streets running along the ridges of the
hills. These streets are wide and are
lined on either side with numerous,
large shade trees. The houses are well-
built, attractively painted, and are
mostly constructed with six rooms.
These houses, together with five acres
of land for farming purposes, rent for
fifty cents per week.
The village is electrically lighted by
the company with a sufftcient number
of lamps. The current is turned off
every night at ten o'clock; and the keep-
ing of late hours is thus discouraged.
Fire protection is afforded the entire
village by a plant installed by the late
Mr. James Holt and improved from time
to time by the present management.
The inhabitants of this village pay no
municipal tax and have as a public
park and ranging ground the entire area
of three square miles surrounding the
village. More than five hundred people
inhabit it.
An ample and attractive school house
has been erected by the company in
conjunction with the county school
board. School with splendidly equipped
teachers is maintained for six months
during the year. It has long been the
practice of the Glencoe management to
supplement the county school fund so as
to enable the school to continue through
half the year.
The value of education has long been
recognized by the management of the
Glencoe plant. And this little village
enjoys the distinction of being the first
in which compulsory education was en-
forced in this State. As early as the
year 1880 the late James H. Holt re-
quired the children of the village to
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
247
attend school a given number of months
each year before allowing them to work
in the mills. Thus, in this little village
on the banks of the Haw River, a cotton
manufacturer put into practice an idea
of which it has taken the State thirty-
five years to begin to realize the value.
Mr. James H. Holt, who, together
with his brother, established the Glen-
coe Mills and who was the first manager,
was an elder in the Presbyterian church.
He was a consecrated Christian gentle-
man with lofty ideals. These he ever
endeavored to inculcate in his employes.
He took delight in teaching the boys
in and about the mills. They looked
upon him as a father; and he brought
them up right, giving them noble ideals
and requiring of them at all times,
honesty, sobriety and uprightness. As
a result of his influence and that of his
son who followed him, the moral and
intellectual tone of the people at Glen-
coe is far above the average.
There are two churches in the village,
a union church built by the company
in which the Presbyterians, the Method-
ist Protestant and the Methodist Episco-
pal denominations hold services, each
having its individaul organization; and
a Baptist church just completed
and dedicated this spring. It is the
pride of the village that there has never
been a scandle among its inhabitants.
Only one man has been tried and con-
victed in Superior Court since 1880 and
he was put in court by the management
for misdemeanors committed in the
village, which he refused to leave. The
magistrate trials average less than two
a year.
The superintendent of the Glencoe
Mills, Mr. M. M. Marshall, the boss
weaver, Mr. Robert Durham and the
boss spinner, Mr. G. R. White, all began
work in the mills as small boys; and they
are only a few of the many others who
have risen in the textile busniess and in
other walks of life.
Mr. Robert L. Holt, owner and ma-
ger of the Glencoe Mills, has lived with
his people since taking charge of the
plant twenty-five years ago. He finds
much pleasure in mingling with them
and the relations existing between him
and all his employees and the members of
their families is of the most cordial and
friendly sort. As he walks about the
village he stops here and there, wherever
there is a man, woman or child on the
porch or in the yard, and indulges in a
short converstion about the things that
interest them. I remember his stopping
at one of the homes to inquire from a
very old woman about a rose bush she
's growing for him. There is genuine
attachment here between employer and
emplyed.
Mr. Holt lives in an attractive home
on the summit of a hill overlooking the
village and the mills. His life is not
filled with the joys and the cares of fam-
ily life, for he is a bachelor; and the only
other person about his home is a Japan-
ese cook, who is a man of far too studious
habits to talk much. At some distance
from the mill Mr. Holt has a hunting
lodge," Fort Snug", that is the envy of
all who have visited it. It is conceived
and excuted in an ideal manner and is a
center of social life for his friends during
the summer months.
OSSIPEE AND HOPEDALE
ON REEDY FORK, seven miles
from Burlington, are located the
Ossipee Cotton Mills; and farther down,
below the meeting of Haw River and
Reedy Fork, are located the Hopedale
Cotton Mills. These mills, owned and
operated by the J. N. Williamson and
Sons Company, are exceedingly interest-
248
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
ing from the standpoints of history,
location and condition.
The Ossipee Mills operate 4960 spin-
dles and 354 looms and employ 175
operatives. Power is furnished by water
and steam. The original building was
erected in 1818 and a large addition was
made in 1898. The industry was found-
ed by Mr. James N. Williamson, of
Gramham. North State flannels and
other napped fabricks are manufac-
tured.
Located among the hills of Alamance
on the banks of one of the county's
numerous picturesque streams the mills
and the village have a distinctive ad-
vantage over the city mills with their
operatives in more or less crowded
Photograph of Mr James N. Williamson, Jr., of Burlington,
President and Treasurer of the James N. Williamson and Sons
Company, One of North Carolina's Most Progressive Mill Men.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
249
conditions. The mill buidings are con-
structed with unusually high ceilings
and the rooms are splendidly ventilated
and lighted, affording the best possible
conditions for indoor work. The mills
are under the superintendency of Mr.
E. L. Thompson; and special attention is
paid to sanitary conditions inside and
outside the mill.
The village is principally located on
one broad street, well kept, with side-
walks and shade trees on either side.
The houses are attractively painted.
With each tenement goes a large yard and
garden and the houses are rented to the
employees at the low rate of twelve and
one-half cents per room per week. The
village is clean and sanitary and the
families take interest in having their
yards present a pleasing and attractive
appearance. The entire village has
the appearance of one in which the people
are prosperous, happy and contented.
The company takes great interest in
the welfare of its employees, and the
interest, is in them personally rather
than collectively. Many of these people
have been with the mills since they were
established and practically all of them
have been there a long time. Only
once has the cordial relat on between
employee and employer been marred by
the incoming of the labor agitator and
the passing of the years have left no
traces of that except a faint memory
here and there.
The best of relationships exist between
the employers and their help; and each
employee takes a vital interest in the
work of the mills. The onwers and man-
agers have as a result of their policy of
interest and helpfulness come to be re-
garded as friends and deserving cases
always find a responsive ear. The com-
pany contributes liberal y to the three
churches in the- village and supplements
the county school fund. The school at
Ossipee is one of the most progressive
and modern in the county.
The history of the Hopedale Mills
covers a much longer period of time
than that of Ossipee, a mill having been
erected on the site now occupied by
Hopedale before the Civil War. The
original structure was a frame building.
A brick addition was erected shortly
after the surrender. In a few years the
mill was burned. It was rebuilt by
Messrs. George Swep and Peter Harden,
who disagreed when the first story was
completed and suspended operations.
Mr. Swep then sold out his interest to
Mr. James Plumeroy and father, who
together with the other owner completed
the structure and operated the mill for
six years. It then passed into the hands
of Rosenthal and Company of Raleigh
who ran it for eleven years, at the end
of which time it became the property of
the James N. W lliamson and Sons
Company.
At the Hopedale mills seventy people
are employed. Eight Thousand and
five hundred spindles are operated and
warp yearns are manufactured for use
at the Ossipee Mills. The plant is
under the superintendency of Mr. J. F.
Clark and conditions are similar to
those in the Ossipee Mills, described
above.
zA.mong the employees are numbers
who have been for years employed in
the mills, and they are contented, happy
people. Some among them have ac-
cumulated considerable means and a
spirit of loyalty to their company
exists among them. Mr .James N.
Williamson, Jr., pres'dent of the com-
pany takes a deep interest in the con-
dition of the employees at these mills
just as in those at Ossipee; and he is
looked upon by them as their friend.
During a recent illness of one of the
employees, Mr. Williamson had him
250
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
attended by his family physcian, wanted
to send a trained nurse to care for him,
instructed the superintendent to visit
him regularly and inquire into and supply
his needs and wants and to send bill
for the entire amount to him. This is
only one instance out of many illustrat-
ing the attitude of this company and
its officers towards the people in their
employ; and such an attitude on the
part of the employer cannot fail to
have a tremendous elTect for good upon
the employees.
SAXAPAHAW AND TRAVORA
'' I ^HERE are no two cotton mills
-'- in North Carolina of more general
or particular interest than the Saxa-
pahaw and Travora mills, owned and
operated by the White and Williamson
Company and the Travora Manufactur-
ing Company respectively, of both of
which companies Mr. J. Harvey White
is president. The Saxapahaw Mills
were built by Jonathan Newland and
Sons in 1849 on Haw River twelve miles
southeast of Graham. In 1873 they
were bought by the late Edwin M. Holt,
who associated with him in operating
the mills two of his sons-in-law, Capt. J.
W. White and Dr. John L. Williamson.
Located in the country, the operatives of
these mills have always enjoyed country
life in a large measure. Many of the
menfolk of the families farm. Num-
bers of the operatives have been work-
ing in the mills for a long time and con-
sider it a matter of distinction to be one
among those who have worked in the
mills for many years. Among these
operatives and their employers will be
found that same cordial and friendly
relationship which exists in so large
a measure in these Alamance mills.
Saxapahaw is the mother mill of the
Travora Mills, located at Graham and
built in 1891. The mills were started
as a waste factory but the company now
manufactures heavy flannels and fancy
dress goods. It operates 8000 spindles
and 275 looms, employing something
over 200 operatives.
The management of Travora is pro-
gressive and the mills are among the
most modern in every respect. The
structure of the building permits excel-
lent lighting and ventilation. The floors
of every department are kept clean.
Frequently cleansed cuspidors are placed
about the rooms to prevent spitting on
the floors. Running artesian water is
supplied in every department and in
those rooms where the heat is excessive
electric fans are operated. An automa-
tic lint collecting system will be in-
stalled in the near future.
The mill houses are well constructed
Carolina Cadillac Company
DISTRIBUTORS
Winston-Salem Charloite Raleigh
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
251
with a view to giving good lighting and
ventilation and are attractively painted.
Numerous trees have been planted
along the streets and on the lots. The
village is kept clean and many of the
front yards have been rendered attrac-
tive by the growing of flowers and
grasses. These houses are all supplied
with running artesian water and a gar-
den and rent for fifty and seventy-five
cents per week. The children of the
village have access to the Graham Grad-
ed Schools and the company has erected
a chapel on the hill, which is open for the
use of the several denominations work-
ing among the people.
The relationship existing between the
president of Travora Mills, Mr. J.
Harvey White, and the secretary and
treasurer, Mr. William E. W^hite, and
the operavites is ideal. Perfect freedom
exists between employer and employed
and the employes take a vital interest
in the welfare of the mills. As workers
with a common interest and in a common
cause they carry on the business of the
company. They are friends. Their fa-
thers were friends. And there is noth-
ing among these operatives to indicate
discontent or the existence of a feeling
that they are being imposed upon.
Many of them have accumulated con-
siderable property and others have
risen to prominence in the manufactur-
ing and business world. The present
superintendent of the mills began work
in them when he was a very small boy.
Interesting stories of some of these
people will be found in another section
of the magazine.
The interest of the management of
Travora takes a practical turn whenever
and wherever it is possible for it to do do.
Plans are under way at present for the
employment of a domestic science teach-
er to instruct the operatives and their
families in matters of cooking, dress-
making and general household economy
and sanitation. Convinced that ex-
travagance and poor health among
operatives are due to lack of information,
the management will attempt to have its
people instructed in the matter of pre-
paring well-balanced, wholesome meals
and in other matters pertaining to their
general welfare. This is a very pro-
gressive move on the part of the com-
pany and will result in much good to
the families availing themselves of the
opportunities offered. And it is another
strong expression of the deep interest
which manufacturers here and there
are taking in the welfare of their people.
SWEPSONVILLE
'T^HE man and the woman who have
^ been able to find nothing among
cotton mill operatives but poverty
stricken parents, consumptive grown-ups
and anaemic children would do well to
visit the Virginia Cotton Mills, located
at Swepsonville, three miles from Gra-
ham. For here will be found great
numbers of examples of health and pros-
perity that cannot be explained without
great damage to the arguments of the
agitators and so-called reformers.
Historically both the village and the
mill are exceedingly interesting. The
town of Swepsonville is more than a
century and a half old. Located on
the east side of Haw river in one of the
most picturesque parts of Alamance
county, it is a most desirable place of
residence. With its hills and its vales it
is endowed with a great natural beauty.
It was the camping ground of the Tus-
carora Indian, a point in the march of
Lord Cornwallis and a resting place
for Sherman's Army after his "march to
the sea. "
More than a hundred years ago
252
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Swepsonville was known as a manufac-
turing center, a grist mill standing where
the Virginia Cotton Mills now stand.
The first cotton mill was built in 1855
by Judge Ruffin, who ran it during the
Civil War. In 1886 he sold the mill to
Mr. E. Demock, who later transferred
it to Mr. George W. Swepson. Mr.
Swepson ran it for eighteen months day
and night, the mill then having a capa-
city of 4000 spindles and 175 looms.
In 1881 the mill was burned, fire start-
ing from a lamp which an operative over-
turned one night. It was rebuilt and
after the death of Mr. Swepson passed
under the management of Mr. R. Y.
McAden. Fire destroyed it again in
1892. Dr. J. H. McAden, then presi-
dent of the mill, rebuilt it, using con-
crete for the floors and in other possible
ways eliminating the use of wood.
In 1894 the mill became the property of
Mr. Ashby Lee Baker, who is president
of the mill at this time. The company
now operates 14000 spindles and 500
looms, manufacturing a high class cotton
fabric that has a reputation throughout
the entire country.
One of Mr. Baker's principal interests
in life is the health and happiness of his
operatives. The ceiling in the several
departments of the large mill, 1121 feet
long and 100 feet wide, is high; and all
the rooms are well lighted and venti-
lated, affording most favorable condi-
tions for the operatives to work under.
The mill is kept clean and sanitary in its
every department and in no department
are the operatives huddled together in a
crowded condition. The building was
constructed with a view to allowing
plenty of room. Artesian water is
furnished throughout the plant.
The exceedingly pleasant relation-
ships extising between Mr. Baker and
his employes is an especially interesting
feature of conditions in the Virginia
Mills. Most of the employes have been
working in the mills a great many years;
eighty-five per cent of them, Mr. Baker
states, have worked there all their lives.
Out from this prosperous, happy people
have gone a number of men to places of
prominence and wealth in the world.
Interesting stroies of some of them will
be found in another section of this maga-
zine.
To encourage thrift and economy
among his employes, Mr. Baker es-
tablished a savings department and
offered the operatives the opportunity
of depositing savings with the secretary
and treasurer of the company. These
savings bear interest at five per cent and
are payable on demand. A large num-
ber of the operatives have taken advan-
tage of the opportunity to save and today
the deposits of the operatives with the
mill total over $36,000. Many of those
who saved have taken their savings,
supplemented them by a loan from the
company, bought land adjoining the
property of the mill and built for them-
selves attractive homes. The borrowed
money is repayed according to the earn-
ings of the borrower and without
embarrassment to him.
The operatives of the Virginia Mills
have none of the appearances that are
usually ascribed to the mill operative
by the sensational writer. They are a
healthy, robust looking people, full of
life and its joys. They are comfortably
provided for in life, many of them being
comparatively well off, and are contented
and happy. Recently the company
erected a large school house and present-
ed it to the county. It gives annually a
subscription to the county to help run
the school the full number of months
and in the best possible manner. Many
married people have availed themselves
of opportunities offered by the school for
self improvement. This the company
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
253
encourages among its employes as much
as possible and such improvement is
always recognized when possible. The
two stenographers in the company's
office were promoted from the mill.
In the village are located two churches
and there are thriving organizations of
the Daughters of Liberty and the
Jnuior Order United American Mechan-
ics. The village consists of about 125
houses in addition to private homes
built by the operatives. They are all
well constructed with a view to proper
lighting and ventilation and are attrac-
tively painted. The village is very
hilly and presents a beautiful appearance
with its green slopes, its white houses
and its stately trees. It is well kept and
is the home of hundreds of happy, pros-
perous people.
THE ONEIDA MILLS
T OCATED three blocks from the
-'— ' center of the beautiful little town
of Graham are the Oneida Cotton Mills,
one of the largest cotton manufacturing
plants in the county of Almance. It
is the largest of the plants owned and
operated by the L. Banks .Holt Manu-
facturing Company, of which Mr. L.
Banks Holt, son of the late Edwin M.
Holt, pioneer cotton manufacturer of
colored cotton fabrics in the South and
founder of the textile industry of North
Carolina. The three other mills operat-
ed by the company are the Carolina,
the Bellmont and the Alamance mills,
all located at short distances from Gra-
ham where water power is available.
The Alamance Mills were the first erected
in the State, being built by Mr. Edwin
M. Holt in 1837.
Operating, as it does, four mills, the
L. Banks Holt Company is the largest
employer of labor in Alamance county.
Numbers of the people working in the
mills of the company have been there for
many, many years. Great numbers of
them were born there. They worked
for the elder 'Mr, Holt, the late Edwin
M. Holt, and now they, their children
and their grandchildren are working for
his son. Thus is found repeated the
condition existing in practically all the
Alamance county mills — stable, depend-
able, satisfied, prosperous help.
The policy -of the company in dealing
with its help is one of fair play and kind-
ly interest. Time was when there existed
between employer and employed in its
highest possible degree that ideal rela-
tionship of»friendliness and mutual in-
terest. In a reminiscent mood, Mr.
Holt talked with joy beaming from his
face of the days when employer and
employed worked together for the inter-
est of the company and the mutual in-
terest of each other. They were like
the members of a great family, as one of
the men described it. Then there came
a change over the face of Mr. Holt
and his voice dropped into another tone.
He told how a number of years ago labor
agitators came among the people and
made them dissatisfied, organized them
and ordered a strike. Many of these
people had considerable sums of money
saved and deposited with the company.
Great numbers of them demanded their
deposits and received them promptly.
The money saved with so much care
was soon loaned out to the less thrifty
of the strikers and spent. Then the
leaders disappeared, the people came to
themselves and returned to their places
in the mills. Mr. Holt said that those
days were the beginning of a new order
of things with regard to the relationship
between employer and employed. The
employes had severed the tie of friend-
ship. And although the bond was
mended, memory of its breaking still
254
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Photograph of Mr. L. Banks Holt, President of the L. Banks Holt
Manufacturing Company, of Graham, Owning and Operating the
Oneida, Carolina, Bellmont and Alamance Cotton Mills.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
255
remained ; and those who had enjoyed so
large a part in the friendly interest of
their manufacturers before the strike,
quite naturally had the feeling of one
who wounds a friend. And with this
feeling existing, it was impossible for
the friend ever to return so close again.
So more and more the operatives came
to be known by the pay-roll rather than
by name and their family connections
and circumstances. But time serves
to heal all things; and today the feeling
has long since passed away, for the strike
in the mills as small girls and have grown
up in them. In the meantime they
studied at home and took advantage of
the opportunities offered by the Graham
schools as far as possible. Many others
are striking examples of what an opera-
tive may accomplish in the way of win-
ning educational, social and financial
success and position by persistent appli-
cation. Some interesting stories of
these people will be found in another
section of this magazine.
Mr. Holt has always stood for pro-
Photograph of the Old Alamance Cotton Mills and Their Founder, the Late Edwin M.
Holt, Who Established Them in 1837. These Were the First Mills South of the Mason
and Dixon Line to Manufacture Colored Cotton Fabrics. The Mill Was Burned and
Re-built in 187L
is only a memory. Yet the marks of it
remain here and there; and the old order
has never quite returned.
Yet there is hardly to be found a com-
pany more interested in its employes
than The L. Banks Holt Company, or a
company from among whose employes
have gone out more men and women of
power and position into the world.
It was out of the Oneida Mills at Gra-
ham that the Misses Cooper came, who
have made such a record in the State
debating contests. They began work
gress among his people. At a time when
he was paying practically half the taxes
of the town of Graham, he called to-
gether a number of his operatives and
several citizens of the town and took up
with them the matter of establishing a
graded school. The Governor and the
Superintendent of Public Instruction
were invited to the town to speak.
Great enthusiasm was worked up over
the matter and the election was carried
with only a few dissenting votes, prac-
tically every one of these being cast by
256
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
View of Main Building of Oneida Cotton Mills at Graham. Corner of Other Building is
Visible at Edge of Picture.
operatives in Mr. Holt's mill, paying
not one cent of property tax. Today
the Graham school system is pronounced
one of the best in the State.
The employes of the mills have been
encouraged to save their money and
purchase homes. Many of them have
done this and many of the attractive
homes of the town are owned by men
and families who have made their money
in the Oneida Mills. Mr. Holt laments
the extravagance of the employes, the
cigarette and moving picture habit and
late hours. His people work under
favorable conditions. The homes of
the operatives are built cm large lots
with garden and rent at a very moderate
price.
The company operates a total of
28,000 spindles, of 1,000 looms and
employs approximately 1,000 people.
THE AURORA COTTON MILLS
'T^HE Aurora Cotton Mills are the
-'- largest and one of the oldest mills
of Burlington. They are the develope-
ment of a small plant purchased in 1885
by Lawrence S. Holt and enlarged from
time to time until today the equipment
is 19,144 spindles and 751 looms with
dyeing, bleaching and finishing plant
complete for the manufacture of high
grade fancy dress ginghams. Mr. Holt's
two eldest sons Erwin A. and Eugene
were admitted to copartnership on
Oct. 1, 1896 and Lawrence S. Holt, Jr.,
on Oct. 1, 1905. On the latter date the
firm purchased the Gem Cotton Mills
of Gibsonville, N. C, which has since
been greatly enlarged and at present has
an equipment of 8544 spindles.
The founder of the business, Lawrence
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
267
S. Holt, is the youngest son of the pioneer
of cotton manufacturing in the South,
Edwin M. Holt who built the original
Alamance Mills about five miles from
Burlington in 1837. Before buying the
Aurora Mills, Mr. Holt had been one of
the owners and managers of the Ala-
mance Mills, had built and operated
successfully for several years the Bell-
mont Mills near Graham and had built
and was at that time president of the
E. M. Holt Plaid Mills at Burlington.
The main buiding of the mills is 580
feet in length and 150 feet wide two stor-
ies high. More than five hundred people
are employed and the daily output is
35,000 yards of Ginghams. These are
sold under the celebrated brand "Auro-
ra ' ' and are synonomous over the whole
country with excellence of construction,
workmanship and colors. The build-
ings of the plant are amply heated during
the winter months and well ventilated
and comfortably cool during the sum-
mer. Drinking fountains supplied with
running water from an artesian well are
furnished throughout the mill and a com-
plete water supply provides pure water
to every house without cost throughout
the mill village of ninety dwellings.
Not a single open well is in the village
and the health of the operatives is excep-
tionally good.
It is the policy of the mill to fill the
more responsible positions with men in
the mill who have worked themselves up
and each employee knows that there is
an opportunity of advancement for him.
There is a spirit of loyalty to their com-
pany existing among the operatives
and generally they have a genuine inter-
est in the welfare of the mill. This is a
condition characteristic of the help
situation in practically all the Holt
Mills of the county. So long has this
family been in the cotton manufacturing
business in Alamance County and so sure
have the operatives become of the gen-
uine interest of the members of the fami
ly in their welfare that there is found in
all their mills a spirit of understanding
and loyalty not always to be met with.
For three generations the Holts of Ala-
mance and their employees have worked
together, maintaining ever a reciprocal
attitude of justice and fair play.
No section of Burlington is cleaner or
better kept than that in which the tene-
ment houses of the Aurora Mills are
situated. Front and back yards, streets
and alleys present an object lesson of
cleanliness and sanitation from which
many a community could learn much.
The Cultivation of gardens is encouraged
and nearly every house has its accom-
panying patch of green. The houses are
comfortable and attractive and there is
every evidence that peace and conten-
ment dwell with the people who occupy
them.
In regard to welfare work and efforts
to improve the condition of labor, it is
worthy of note that the head of the firm
Lawrence S. Holt was the first cotton
manufacturer in the South to pay wages
wholly in money and not in trade checks
and store accounts as had previously
been customary. Mr. Holt was also
the first cotton manufacturer in the
South to reduce the running time of his
mills from twelve hours to eleven hours
per day. This schedule was after-
wards adopted by practically all the
mills of the state and South. Subse-
quently the running time was further
reduced to ten hours per day which has
been the schedule since it adoption on
Dec. 1st, 1902. Many mills have since
adopted a ten hour schedule but to the
Aurora Mills belongs the credit of hav-
ing first done so. Both of these reduc-
tions were entirely voluntary and the
results have shown that both the mills
and the employees were benefitted there-
258
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
by. In view of the widespread denun-
ciation of the Southern cotton mill owner,
it would probably surprise a great many
people to know that there is one man
who on two different occasions, volun-
tarily cut one hour per day from the
working time of his operatives without
a corresponding reduction in wages.
Whatever of welfare work and assis-
tance to employees has been done at
these mills has been along practical
lines with more regard to the needs and
benefits of the people than to the adver-
tisement of the mills and their owners.
The employees are not considered or
treated as objects of indiscriminate
charity, but as self-supporting and self-
respecting citizens. The mills being in
the midst of Burlington the operatives
enjoy all the advantages and privileges
of that thriving and progressive town.
Churches are numerous and active and
the very fine graded school offers excep-
tional educational advantages. The sit-
uation is therefore quite different from
that of isolated localities where the peo-
ple are largely dependent upon the mill
management for these blessings.
For the past several years the founder
of the business has had no active part
in its management, and its continued
success under the direction of his three
sons is a striking testimonial to the ex-
cellent training received from their
father.
In a few months, a business life of
thirty years will have been attained, a
period of honest dealing with all and
intense industry and application.
Many changes have taken place during
this time. Invention has flourished, the
cotton manufacturing industry has at-
tained proportions unbelievable thirty
years ago, overproduction caused by too
hasty multiplication of looms and spin-
dles has at times caused severe depres-
sion, panics have shaken the very
foundations of things, but through all,
the Aurora Mills can point to an un-
broken record of fulfilling every obliga-
tion, carrying out everry contract and
discounting every bill during its history.
THE KING COTTON MILLS
A MONG the most interesting of
^ ^ the cotton mills of Alamance
county are the King Cotton Mills of
Burlington, owned and operated by the
King Cotton Company. These mills
were erected by Messrs. R. L. and J. H.
Holt, Jr., and operated by them for a
number of years.
Later they changed hands, coming
into possession of the present own-
ers, who have taken out the old ma-
chinery and installed modern machine-
ry in every department. So the mills
are today practically new.
Under the management of Mr. Robert
M. Jeffress, secretary and general mana-
ger, the mills are forging ahead on a new
wave of prosperity. He is progressive
not only in the equipment and manage-
ment of the mills but also in the treat-
ment of the employes and much work is
being done that helps them better their
condition. He lays great stress upon
teaching and instructing his people
rather than in making them objects of
indiscriminate favor and charity.
The mill village consists of twenty
attractive cottages. Recently these
buildings have been re-covered, re-floored
and painted. They are principally lo-
cated along one broad, well kept street
on either side of which and in the yards
are numerous shade trees. When having
•the houses worked over, Mr. Jeffress
had them painted attractively inside and
had electric lights installed. The cot-
tages are lighted at a flat rate of ten
cents per week.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
259
Back View of the King Cotton Mills, Showing the Operatives Engaged in a Game of
Baseball on Diamond Provided by the Company.
The management of the mills inter-
ested the employes in beautifying their
yards. Catalogues were ordered from
a florist for each family and distributed.
Prizes were offered for the best kept and
most beautiful yards. Many orders
were sent off for flower seeds, the front
yards began to assume the appearance
of prepared flower gardens; and today
there is hardly a more beautiful street
in the town than that upon which these
operatives live. A baseball park has
been provided for the boys by the com-
pany and a great interest is being mani-
fested in athletics by the menfolk.
Mr. Jeffress does everything possible
for the comfort and convenience of
his employes in the mills. Pure water
is furnished. The most approved safety
devices are installed and the humidity
and ventilation of the plant are the most
desirable. At great cost he has recently
installed a Carrier Air Conducting
System, which is said to be the only com-
plete system of its kind in the State.
This system forces into every room of
the building, pure, fresh air that has
just been washed of all lint and dirt in
passing through the purifying machinery
of the system. The entrance of the
pure air forces the stale air out. During
the winter months it is re-washed and
purified and returned to the building.
During the summer months the air is
taken from the outside and forced into
the several rooms after having been
cleaned.
The conditions under which the opera-
tives work in these mills are practically
all that could be desired. The quantity
of lint is reduced to the minimum..
The floors are kept clean and the opera-
tives are not crowded. On a day when the
temperature was 84 degrees outdoors,
the thermometer registered as follows:
in the spinning room, 79 where machin-
ery was running and 73 where it was
standing; in the carding room, 75; in
the winding and packing rooms, 74.
These figures tip the balances in favor of
the mills for comfort during the heat of
summer.
Mr. Jeffress has conceived the idea of
preventing extravagance among his em-
ployes in so far as possible and with that
in view and the other advantages to be
260
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
obtained from such a practice, he has
adopted for the women and girls a mill
uniform, which the operatives will be
able to purchase at a price lower than
that for which they could buy the cloth
and have the garments made. They
will also be required to wear caps to
protect their heads from the lint.
His mill is well lighted and is in every
respect such a plant as it delights one to
visit. The premises are clean and sani-
tary; and the operatives have the ap-
pearance of being a healthy, happy
people. Mr. Jeffress states that a
family rarely ever moves from his mill
to another and that he has no trouble
whatever in securing help. He states
that he has numbers of applications
from operatives of other mills for vacant
houses which he may happen to have.
He however rents his houses only to
his own people and thus keeps the
standard of his help and the tone of his
settlement at the highest possible stand-
ard.
The offices and front of the mill present
a splendid view. The large lawn is well
hept and amply shaded with large and
numerous trees. Shrub-lined walks lead
through it; and the entire surroundings
present the appearance of progress and
improvement.
^HHpg;
J &
^^S~^
i^v%iiii^«
W^^'^-"''^ ;-^--; '^^ ^_ v^r-; -,: ■
^^ti
"^^H^hHiM
11^
k
J
View Showing Street, and Group of Houses Occupied by King Cotton Mill Operatives.
Mr. Jeffress Makes Every Effort to Have the Employes Beautify Their
Yards and Keep the Premises Strictly Sanitary.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
261
GRAHAM— THE IDEAL
TF you ever get off the train at Gra-
-'- ham, North Carolina, thank the
conductor for stopping. You are about
to visit one of the most interesting and
beautiful of all North Carolina towns
and to mingle with a people who retain
the cream of the culture and ideals of the
old South, yet a people thoroughly
imbued with the spirit of progress and
filled with the joy and satisfaction of
achievement. You are about to mingle
with some who are descendants of the
Regulators of Colonial fame; and you
will meet those who trace their family
connection back to the Patriot Herman
Husbands, leader of the Regulators in
in the first battle with the English troops,
the battle of Alamance, fought with the
troops of Governor Tryon in 1771.
You will doubtless be shown the path-
way along which Lord Cornwallis drag-
ged his -bloody trail, the house in which
he made his quarters, the chair in which
he sat. And many other things of
interest and significance will come to
your attention upon a little inquiry;
for while you are in Graham, you are in
the midst of a people whose inheritance
of history and tradition is large. But
with all these things upon which they
might rest and with all their great men
to whom they might devote many years
building monuments, the people of
Graham have always looked in front of
them for greatness and today their eyes
are set towards the future and their feet
towards progress.
Residential Attractions
Located on the Southern Railway
fifty-one miles west of Raleigh and twen-
ty-five miles east of Greensboro, Gra-
ham has passenger and mail service
unexcelled by any of the towns and
cities of the State except those that
are railroad centers. It is the county
seat of Alamance county and has an
elevation of six hundred and forty-one
feet. The population numbers three
thousand five hundred, almost alto-
gether white..
Graham has an incorporated area of
two square miles and is located on an
elevation that affords splendid drainage
in all sections. It is beautifully laid
out, having a public square from which
the principal streets of the town lead.
On this square are located the court
house and a handsome monument erect-
ed to the soldiers of the Confederacy.
The court house is surrounded by a
broad concrete walk on either side of
which is a well kept green. Surround-
ing the court house square is a large,
bitulithic paved, space affording ample
space for the passing vehicles and the
parking of automobiles. Upon this
square face the hotel, the postoffice and
many of the town's principal business
houses.
Streets and Sidewalks.
The streets and sidewalks of Graham
are the envy of all towns acquainted with
them. With a population of only three
thousand five hundred, the town has
over seven miles of cement sidewalks
and the four principal streets are paved
to the corporate limits with asphalt.
When a visitor is told that all this work
was accomplished with a bond issue of
$50,000, he marvels. But politics play-
ed little or no part in the matter; and
the town placed upon its street commis-
262
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Magnificent View of a Residential Section of Graham, Showing Handsome Residences and Fine
Old Trees. The Town Abounds in Just Such Beautiful Homes.
sion men qualified for the place by hones-
ty and great business ability. So Gra-
ham has in streets and sidewalks value
received for every penny of money
expended.
And these streets are a delight to
those accustomed to the hot, treeless
streets of the towns where commercial-
ism and lack of appreciation of the
beautiful have left not a vestige of the
things that delight the eye and con-
tribute to the liveableness of life. The
streets of Graham are broad ; and many
of them swing in long, graceful curves,
avoiding the monotony of a town of
straight streets and square blocks. They
are all lined with magnificent trees, and
the overhanging branches make of them
an arbor of delight alike for the promena-
der and for the men, women, boys and
girls going to and returning from their
work. The streets are well drained and on
either side of the cement in the center
of the broad sidewalks is a strip of green.
Most of the residences sit far back off
the streets and are surrounded by large.
shaded lawns. Nothing is crowded in
Graham.
Schools and Churches
Graham has within its corporate
limits thirteen churches with resident
pastors — a church and a pastor for
every two hundred and seventy people.
It might almost be called the city of
churches. Many of these houses of
worship are splendid examples of archi-
tectural art and would do credit to a
city. A large proportion of the popu-
lation belong to the several churches;
and the moral tone of the little city is of
the highest type, while its criminal life
is almost a negligible quantity.
What Superintendent J. Y. Joyner
ranks as one of the very best public
school systems in the State is located in
Graham. The town has a handsome,
strictly modern school building with a
graded school taking the pupils through
the tenth grade. It will be recalled
that the debating teams from this school
stayed in the State debating contest at
Chapel Hill till the final decision both in
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
263
1913 and 1914, losing the cup to Spring
Garden one year and to Winston-Salem
the other.
Water and Sewerage
Graham has a water-works system
not excelled in the State. Water mains
penetrate to every section of the town
and the water supply is obtained from
two artesian wells which have a depth of
six hundred feet. Only one of these
wells is used at a time; and the water
furnished by them is declared pure by
the analysis of the State department at
Raleigh.
Water is supplied at an unusually
low rate, the rates as adopted by the
Board of Alderman being as follows:
Minimum monthly charge $.105.
For 4000 gallons or less, 35 cents per
thousand.
For more than 4000 and less than 5000
gallons 31 1-4 cents per thousand.
For more than 5000 and less than
10000 gallons, 26 cents per thousand.
All water in excess of 10000 gallons to
be charged for at the rate of 25 cents
per thousand.
Water for manufacturing purposes is
quoted as follows:
For 2000 gallons or less per day, 25
cents per thousand.
For 2000 to 3000 gallons per day, 20
cents per thousand.
For 3000 to 5000 gallons per day, 15
cents per thousand.
For 5000 to 10000 gallons per day, 12
cents per thousand.
For upwards of 10000 gallons per day,
10 cents per thousand.
Private sewer lines are operated, ac-
commodating the entire town.
The town has a fire house and a
modern fire-fighting equipment with
men in the house all the time.
Lights and Street Railway
Graham is equipped with one of the
most modern electric plants in the
State. Current for lighting and power
is furnished by the Graham Water and
Electric Company at the following rates:
View of Part of Public Square of Graham Siiowing Confederate Monument, Broad Asphalt Street,
Handsome Business Buildings and Corner of Courthouse Square.
264
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
.^
Magnificent View of Main Street of Graham, Showing Asphalt (Work Unfinished on the Sides),
Street Car Track, Trees, and Courthouse in the^ Distance.
Meter rates as follows: 10 cents per
K. W. with 10 per cent discount if paid
on or before the 15th of the month.
Monthly minimum charge, 50 cents.
Flat rates as follows:
Four 25-Watt Tungstens or their
equivalent, 1.00 per month.
Five 25-Watt Tungstens or their
equivalent, $1.25 per month.
Six 25-Watt Tungstens or their
equivalent, SI. 50 per month.
Ten per cent, discount is allowed on
above quoted flat rates.
Power rates will be furnished on
application.
Graham has a splendid street railway
service through the principal part of
the town and is connected by inter-
urban lines with Burlington and Haw
River.
Manufacturing Interests
Graham has large manufacturing in-
terests, representing big investments
and sustaining an annual pay-roll of
more than $246,000. These manufac-
turing plants are located either on the
main line of the railroad, which runs
some distance from the center of the
town, or comparatively near it on spur
tracks; and their towers, smoke stacks
and water tanks speak eloquently and
forcibly of the wheels of industry that
are turning there.
The manufacturing plants of the town
include eight cotton mills, two lumber
mills, one flour mill, an overall factory
and the largest brick factory in that
section of the State. The town also
has a flourishing newspaper.
Recent Developments
Great activity has been manifested
during the past twelve months; and a
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
265
number of developments and improve-
ments have taken place. Six handsome
new business buildings have been erected
during that time. The hotel has been
remodelled and work has been completed
on the cement sidewalks and asphalt
streets. A large lumber plant has been
located and erected and is doing a
flourishing bsuiness.
And one of the most important steps
recently taken by the citizens of Gra-
ham'was the movement to organize a
The hospital will be equipped in the
latest and most approved manner and
will be ample for the accommodation of
the town and adjacent territory. It is
to be a public institution and will pay
no dividends whatever upon the stock
subscribed. A number of beds will be
retained in the public wards for charity
patients, which the resident physicians
will treat gratis in consideration of
being allowed to use other rooms of the
hospital for their individual patients.
View 01 the Magnificent Residence of
Mr. H. W. Scott, of Graham.
company for the purpose of founding a
public hospital. This laudable under-
taking went through with the enthu-
siastic support of the citizens and just
as soon as the institution can be opened
up, Graham will have splendid hospital
facilities, making it unnecessary for
physicians to remove patients from the
town and surrounding country to the
hospitals of neighboring cities when an
operation is necessary, or even for pro-
longed medical treatment.
Recreation and Amusement
No modern town is complete without
affording certain means of amusement
and recreation to its inhabitants. Gra-
ham is not in the least behind in this
particular. For winter attractions, a
splendid theater is provided, ample for
the accommodation of many of the
larger attractions. Also the ubiqui-
tous moving picture theater is here for
266
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
the amusement of young and old, day
and night, summer and winter.
To the outdoor life of the people of
Graham much is contributed by an
up-to-date country club with the finest
fishing preserves in the Piedmont section
of the State and all other appurtenances
belonging to such an organization.
This club is the center of social and plea-
sure life during the summer months and
affords splendid opportunities for the
enjoyment of outdoor sports and the
delights of nature.
Real Estate Values
Land is plentiful in and around Gra-
ham. The town has been singularly
free from real estate speculators; and
land values there are therefore much
more nearly normal than in most tow^ns.
Excellent residential sites may be had
close in or in the stiburbs at moderate
prices and on satisfactory terms. Ideal
sites for manufacturing plants can be
had at attractive prices on the main
line of the Southern railroad or on spur-
View Showing Presbyterian Church at Graham. This Church is Located on One of the
Largest and Prettiest Grounds in Graham.
During the warmer season free band
concerts are rendered on the public
square of the town twice each week.
These are always attended by immense
crowds; and the occasions are events
of general social intercourse between
the people of the town. They make the
public square a sort of community
center, a common meeting place for the
residents of the town.
tracks that run through the town.
The town offers to prospective manu-
facturers an especially attractive propo-
sition in the way of sites, power, labor
and the cost of living, which is compara-
tively low owing to the large rural
backing which the town possesses. To
prospective home makers, Graham offers
one of the most desirable and delightful
locations to be found in the State in all
particulars.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
267
Indebtedness and Taxation
Notwithstanding the fact that the
town of Graham has one of the most
modern and up-to-date public school
buildings in the State, more than seven
miles of cement sidewalks, asphalt on
its principal streets from the center of
the town to the corporate limits and
other splendid public improvements,
all with a population of only three
thousand and five hundred. the
bonded indebtedness of the town is only
$60,000. Of this amount, $10,000 was
to prospective manufacturers and resi-
dents.
Graham Commercial Club
Seeing and feeling the need of an or-
ganization whose business it should be
to work for the general upbuilding and
development of Graham and to exploit
its advantages, the citizens of Graham
recently organized what is known as the
Graham Commercial Club.
This organization numbers among
it membership of more than one hun-
dred, practically every enterprising,
View Showing a Business Block in Graham, Splendid View of the Broad Asphalt Street With
Alamance Courthouse in the Distance, Forming Background for Confederate Monument.
voted for schools in 1905 and $50,000
was voted for roads and streets in 1913.
With these bond issues the citizens of
Graham have done what seems a wonder
to citizens of other towns where vast
sums are spent with apparently small
returns. The total tax rate in Graham
is only $1.10 on the hundred dollars, an
astonishingly low rate when the public
improvements are considered, and one of
which the citizens are well warranted in
boasting. This is only another of the
many attractions Graham has to offer
progressive man in the little city; and
the leading spirits in the club are men
with a vision of great things for their
town — they are men of the type who
have built the cities that are and they
will put Graham to the front. En-
thusiasm and co-operation characterize
their efforts; and a persistent, deter-
mined effort to push Graham to the
front, to make of it a still larger center
of population and industry than has
been hitherto dreamed, will be sustained.
Graham not only invites manufac-
268
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
turers, but offers co-operation. The
town not only offers some of the most
attractive elements to be found in any
desirable manufacturing location, but
also offers to co-operate in a material
way. The citizens of Graham have
money that can be interested in legiti-
mate business enterprises.
Attorney J. J. Henderson, corres-
ponding secretary of the Graham Com-
mercial Club, will cheerfully enter into
correspondence with anyone desiring
road is to be the Greensboro, Northern
and Atlantic Railway. It will run from
Lynchburg, Virginia, to Durham North
Carolina. The surveys and the maps
of this road have already been made and
more than $40,000 has been spent on the
undertaking.
From Davnille the road will run
southward along the line surveyed dur-
ing the Civil War for the railroad run-
ning from that city southward, but
which, owing to the inability of the com-
c-rstammm^ ..,gjS.*-«6«»
'4vii«^;,;*
View Showing Graham Graded School Building With Children Assembled on Large Playground.
Large Area With Trees Appears in Rear of BuildinG.
specific information regarding Graham
and the opportunities and advantages
it has to offer. Trouble him with a
letter about Graham the Ideal.
Projected Development
In an interview with one of Graham's
most enterprising citizens who is vitally
interested in the undertaking, it was
stated that a plan is under way for the
running of another railroad through the
town. The name of the proposed rail-
pany to secure powder for blasting pur-
poses, was run a longer and less rocky
route. The original plan of this road
was that it tap the North Carolina Rail-
road at Graham or Burlington.
If the present undertaking goes
through, and it is said to be more than
reasonably certain of success, it is
stated that the road will run through
Graham and that it will have connec-
tions with the C. &. 0.,the Virginian,
the Norfolk-Southern, and the Southern
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
269
roads. This will greatly improve the
freight and passenger service of the
territory through which the proposed
road is to run and will mean the rapid
development of a large section of North
Carolina. It was stated that those
interested hoped to build within the
•next three years.
Another Inter-urban
One of the most important projects
being promoted in the section of Graham
just at this time is a proposed inter-
road will place Graham in easy communi-
cation with a large number of towns and
villages now reached only by country
road and will undoubtedly mean great
things for the little city. This project
is said to be almost certain of realization
in the near future.
The Backing of Graham
Nothing has quite so much to do with
growth and development of a town, as
well as an individual, as environment.
A backward county is always a draw-
Street Scene in Graham, Showing Broad Asphalt Street, Magnificent Trees Lining It, Business
Houses and Street Cars.
urban electric railway from Ossipee and
Altamahaw to Durham, a distance of
some fifty miles. The proposed route
of this railway is from Ossipee and Alta-
mahaw through Glencoe, Carolina Hope-
dale, Burlington, Graham, Haw River,
Swepsonville, Saxapahaw, River Falls
and. Chapel Hill to Durham. It is
being promoted by the Alamance, Dur-
ham and Orange Railway and Electric
Company. It will pass through the
heart of one of the best sections of the
State and will be a great stimulus
to the territory it is to serve. This
back to a progressive town. A pauper
county is always a drain upon the
resources of its towns and cities. Gra-
ham is exceedingly fortunate in being
the county seat of a county which is in
many respects one of the most progres-
sive in the State.
In natural resources Alamance county
is wealthy. The climate is salubrious;
the surface of the land rolling, with a
tendency in places towards picturesque
ruggedness; and the soil is fertile, pro-
ducing abundant and varied^ crops.
270
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
Manufacturing in County
There are within Alamance county
fifty manufacturing plants with an
annual pay-roll of $1,583,000. More
than 5000 horse power has been devel-
oped from the streams of the county,
which offer for development many more
times that much. The taxable property
of the county is assessed at $11,6000,000.
Roads, Health, Schools
Hardly a county in the State can
boast better roads than Alamance.
The money appropriated for the building
of roads has been well and wisely spent
both as to place and manner. As a
result of this the county has today more
than ninety-three miles of improved
public road, reaching to every part of
the county and serving the greatest
possible number of people for the money
expended.
In the matter of public health, Ala-
mance is one of the progressive counties
of the State. The county was one
among the first to employ a whole-time
health officer, whose duties are the
examination and care of the schools,
the county institutions and the care of
the public health generally in addition to
educational campaigns in the matters of
hygiene and the prevention of disease.
And with a total of ninety schools,
Alamance forges right to the front. In
many of the most progressive under-
takings on the part of the public schools
of the State, Alamance took the lead.
The county was the first in the State to
hold a Community Fair. It was held
at Friendship in 1911 and the State
Agricultural Board appropriated $500
for the encouragement of the movement.
The county was the first to have a rural
supervisor of public schools and a farm
home demonstrator; and the first in
athletic track meets. These were held
at Friendship.
The number of girls taking industrial
work in the public schools places Ala-
mance at the head of the list in the
State, there being over two hundred
taking cooking and sewing. This de-
partment of the school work experienced
a great increase last year when cooking
courses were inaugurated in seven schools
and sewing in nine. This work is prov-
ing to be very popular and a great in-
crease in the number of pupils taking it
is anticipated for next season.
Canning Clubs
Alamance leads the South in the
Canning Club activities, the next county
in the list being one in Alabama. The
clubs in Alamance county last year put
up 55,165 tin and glass receptacles at a
money value of $7,039.65 and a profit
of $5,268.45. The next county in the
State was Anson with 38,540 receptacles,,
giving Alamance clubs a lead of 16,615
cans and jars.
So Alamance county is forging ahead
with the foremost counties of the State
in almost every line of development;:
and Graham, the county seat, must
grow in the logical course of events.
Not that Graham is riding on the tide of
the county's growth and de' elcpment,
for this development really had its-
beginning and its inception in Graham,
but that all things are favorable to the
development of the county seat of such
a progressive county.
Graham is fortunate. The town has
nothing to overcome from without;
and from within the citizenship are work-
ing as a unit for growing Graham, for
Graham, the ideal place for the location
of manufacturing plants and for the
making of homes. And to the history
of their illustrious past the citizens of
Graham are adding the records of new
achievements and progress. x
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
271
SOME INTERESTING PRODUCTS
OF CHILD LABOR
T N visiting the cotton mills of Alamance
■'- county one is soon impressed with
the large number of operatives who have
been working in the mills twenty, thirty
thirty-five years and even longer in
some instances. Three generations of a
family will not infrequently be found
employed. This condition of affairs
affords to the interested student of the
situation an excellent opportunity to
observe concrete examples in real life
of the effect of cotton mill work upon
children.
The following stories of some of these
people will be exceedingly interesting.
They portray a type of the mill operative
entirely overlooked and neglected by
the agitator and the reformer. These
stories are built entirely upon fact.
Names and places are given and further
investigation of the matter will be wel-
comed by the owners and operators of
the mills in which these people work.
The "Strike Breaker"
Tale of romance is no more interesting
than the story of the family of Mr.
Isaac Holt, the "Strike Breaker" of
the Travora Cotton Mills at Graham.
Mr. Holt moved to Graham in 1902
with seven sons and three daughters.
He helped erect the Travora Mills and
since that time has been employed in
them, all his children working in them
with him.
It was in 1903 that the strike occurred.
The striking bee got into the bonnets of
some of the employes, the man in charge
of the spinning room putting it there.
Young Tom Holt, one of Mr. Holt's
Mr. Isaac Holt, the "Strike Breaker" of
Travora Mills, Whose Boys and Girls Fill
His Heart* With Pride.
seven sons, was operating a mule frame.
During one forenoon, he with several
others, walked out. At the noon hour
Bob, one of the other sons, brought din-
ner for Mr. Holt and the other members
of the family in the mills.
Tom did not show up. Bob told his
father that Tom had struck and was
down behind the barn. The old man
sent word to Tom to come and eat his
dinner. He came with Bob; he dared
not disobey. Without a word his father
took h!m back behind a row of cards
where he applied an eighteen-inch piece
of leather belting. He then gave the
command, "Now you go and run that
272
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
mule." Tom went. The strike was
over; and from that day to this Travora
has had the loyal support of its opera-
tives, in whom the management takes
so much interest.
But what of the seven sons and three
daughters raised in the mills.?
Tom Holt, the striker, is today a
successful traveling salesman for Bal-
ance & Balance of Greensboro, standing
well with his company and enjoying the
friendship and esteem of a wide circle
of friends and acquaintances.
Seymore Holt remained in the manu-
facturing business and has steadily
risen until he is today superintendent of
the Travora Cotton Mills at an attrac-
tive salary. His entire life has been
spent in cotton mills since he was a
small boy and today he weighs 230
pounds, a perfect picture of health, suc-
cess and happiness. He began work in the
Saxapahaw Mills when he was nine
years old at fifteen cents per day. To-
day he is comfortably situated.
Clyde Holt after a number of years
left the mill and entered the mercantile
business. Today he is doing a splendid
fancy grocery business in Burlington and
is fast accumulating property..
W. L. Holt also left the mills and is
now rural mail carrier out of Saxapahaw.
Charlie Holt is still working in the
Travora Mills. He is working with his
father as a fly frame operative and
weighs 220 pounds.
James W. Holt is prospering in a
mercantile business in Graham and has
in the town a wide circle of friends and
acquaintances. He is fast rising, success
attending his efforts.
And the girls of the family have all
done remarkably well. All are married.
None of them are working in the mills.
Mamie is now Mrs. J. A. Moore, wife
of the mayor of the city of Burlington.
Maggie is the wife of Mr. J. M. Ang-
lin, a prosperous, progressive photo-
grapher of Burlington.
Myrtle married Mr. J. G. Rogers,
proprietor of the Hico Milling Company
of Burlington.
Mr. Holt, who is still working in the
Travora Mills, is a picture of health and
happiness. He is justly proud of his
boys and girls; and his reply to the
agitators is that he raised them in the
mill.
A Happy Old Woman
No friendly visitor to the Travora
Cotton Mills is allowed to forego the
pleasure of meeting and talking with
"Aunt Millie," who was working in the
Saxapahaw Mills when the Civil War
broke out and who is still, at the age of
seventy-two years, employed in the
Travora Mills, owned and operated by
the descendants of the founder of Sax-
apahaw.
"Aunt Millie" will be sent for. And
"Aunt Millie," Who WorKs in Travoro Mills
at the Age of 72 and Who is
Beloved as a Mother.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
273
soon she will appear at the office and
inform the president, Mr. J. Harvey
White, and the secretary and treasurer,
Mr. William E. White, both of whom she
regards very much as if they were her
own sons, that she cannot stay away
from her work long. Then after a
little plesant bantering of words "Aunt
Miille" will become interested in tel-
ling of the old days and the joyful beam-
ing face will grow brighter.
The old woman tells remarkable
stroies of life in the mills long ago; and
especially eloquent does she grow in
describing scenes and events at Saxa-
pahaw when the Yankees came through,
calling them " Damnyankees " with the
spirit of a genuine Rebel. But there is
no bitterness in her remarks or her
voice and the whole affair has resolved
itself into a humorous tale with this
old lady of other days and times.
One of her favorite stories concerns
her former employer, Capt. J. W. White.
She was at the time operating a rope
machine at the Saxapahaw Mills. The
operative who usually helped her was
out. Having no one to put in her place,
Captain White took a turn at the work
himself. When the machinery started
after the dinner hour Captain White
was not on hand. "Aunt Millie" says
she thought he was "just lazy and didn't
want to work right after dinner." So
she walked off to the other end of the
machine and started it. In the mean-
time the Captain had arrived and was
stooping down over the rope. When
the machine started his long beard
suddenly became entangled in the twist-
ing cords and began to be wound up.
It pulled ; and it hurt. The old gentle-
man foresaw the loss of his beard in a
most painful manner. So he let up a yell
that alarmed the operatives of the mill.
Instinctively "Aunt Millie" stopped
the machine and with a pair of scissors
soon relieved the Captain of his beard.
"Aunt Millie" is a great favorite with
all the operatives and foremen of the
mill and the owners treat her in the most
kindly, gentle manner. There is gen-
uine devotion between them. "Aunt
Millie" cannot do much work now. But
she knows no happiness outside the
mills. So she is allowed to come in and
do what she can, while her pay goes on
just as always. She is in splendid
health and delights to say with her
beaming face, "working in the mill ain't
never hurt me."
A $30,000 Mill Man.
One of the most interesting studies in
the development of a cotton mill opera-
tive is the case of Mr. D. F. Williams.
Mr. Williams began work in the mills at
Swepsonville, near Graham, when he
was eight years old. All his life since
that time has been spent in the mills.
He is today superintendent of the Vir-
ginia Cotton Mills at Swepsonville,
is a perfect picture of health and is
rated as being worth $30,000 in cash and
real estate.
Mayor W. I. Ward.
Mayor W. I. Ward of Graham was
raised at Swepsonville and worked in
the cotton mills during his boyhood and
youth. He saved his earnings and went
to the University of North Carolina,
from which institution he graduated.
Later he read law at Trinity College
and opened an office in Graham. For
a while he was secretary of the Graham
Loan and Trust Company. He is now
attorney for the company and is mayor
of Graham. Upon the recent organi-
zation of the Graham Commercial Club,
Mr. Ward was unanimously elected
president of that organization. He is
one of the town's most progressive and
leading citizens.
274
SKY LAND MAGAZINE
Two Home Owners
Among the many at Swepsonville
who have saved money and purchased
homes may be mentioned Messers.
Thomas and J. A. Burke, both of whom
began work in the cotton mills there
when they were boys, twenty years ago.
Mr. Thomas Burke today owns a home
valued at $2,500 and Mr. J. A. Burke has
built a handsome home costing $2,000.
A Debating Family
Everybody remembers the Cooper
girls who figured so largely in the final
State debating contests at Chapel Hill
last year and the year before. These
girls came from Graham and were
operatives in the Oneida Cotton Mills.
The family moved to Graham about
eighteen years ago. Soon after moving,
the father died leaving a widow with
six girls. The girls found employment
in the Oneida Mills; and they not only
earned a living but made enough to
enable the members of the family to
take considerable advantage of the Gra-
ham public schools. And the story of
their rise is one filled with interest.
Miss Julia Cooper was a member of
the Graham High School debating team
which remained in the final contest at
Chapel in 1913 until the very last de-
bate, but finally lost to Pleasant Garden.
She is now a teacher in the Graham city
schools and is considered a young woman
of unusual intelligence.
Misses Myrtle and Flauney Cooper
composed the Graham High School
team that again remained in the con-
test until the last debate in 1914. The
sisters were defeated in the last round
and the cup went to Winston-Salem.
Miss Myrtle is still in the Graham High
School and Miss Flauney is a weaver in
the Oneida Mills. She was delegate to
the State Baraca-Philathes Conven-
tion held in Raleigh this year. She
is a young woman of exceptionally fine
mental ability, a leader in church work
and is very popular.
Doflfer to Superintendent
About thirty-five years ago Mr. Zion
Ezell moved to Oneida Mills with his
father, who was a wounded Confederate
soldier. He bagan work in the mills as
a doffer when quite a small boy. Today
he is superintendent of the L. Banks
Holt Company's Bellmont Mills and has
a beautiful home overlooking the river.
His daughter is one of the teachers in
the Graham city schools. For many
years, until her death, he cared for his
wife's invalid mother. His brother
James is overseer of spinning.
Ossipee Operatives
Among the many examples of success-
ful men among the operatives of the
Ossipee Mills one of the most prominent
is Mr. James Jones, who for thirty years
has been working in the mills. He began
work when a small boy and states that
he received ten cents per day for his
labor. He now works in the dyeing
department of the mills and has accumu-
lated property to the value of six or
eight thousand dollars. In the mean-
time he has educated his children. He
is a justice of the peace and a deacon in
his church. He is an honored and
respected citizen in Swepsonville and is
admired and liked by a large circle of
friends and acquaintances.
One very old employe, happy, respect-
ed and loved alike by employer and
employes found at these mills, Mrs.
Sarah Heritag, began work in the old
Alamance Mills and later came with
Mr. Williamson to Ossipee, where she
has been for many years. She is looked
upon almost as a part of the family and
on every gift-making occassion the old
lady is generously remembered.
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
275
BIGGER, BETTER BURLINGTON
TN Alamance county, east of Greens-
-^ boro on the Southern railway lies
Burlington, one of the most progressive
little cities of North Carolina. It has
a population of 6,500 with an additional
8,000 within three miles, connected by
trolley. The incorporated limits of the
city are a mile and a half square. The
town has splendid water and electric
service and more than six miles of cement
sidewalks.
Handsome residences in secluding
groves of large trees render the town
exceedingly attractive and give it an
air of prosperity, marking it as a city of
people who retain a love of the country,
the woods, their beauty and their rest-
fulness. It is a town of splendid social
life and genuine culture. And the people
who live there love Burlington.
As a manufacturing center, Burling-
ton stands out among the others of the
State. There are within the town five
cotton mills and twenty more within a
radius of ten miles. In addition to these
mills there are a box factory manufac-
turing 30,000 cases annually ; four hosiery
mills; two dyeing and finishing mills;
one casket factory; one steel bridge
plant; three tobacco warehouses; three
machine shops; two foundaries; two
garages; two newspapers, Democratic
and Republican; two job printing offices;
two flour mills; one ice plant; two lum-
ber plants; one pant and overall factory
and one paper box factory.
The city owns an excellent water
works system and supplies the town with
water from artesian wells at very
moderate rates. The city is accom-
modated by an adequate and modern
sewerage system. Street car service
and electric lighting are furnished by
the Piedmont Railway and Electric
Company of the city which has recently
built a modern electric power plant to
supply the manufacturing industries of
Alamance with steam electric power
transmitted over short lines, which
insures the most reliable service. The
lines of the company are being rapidly
extended over the county to the various
mills, which are finding the service to
cost them less than individual steam
plants. The rates proposed by this
company to the cotton mills are the
usual one cent per K. W. H. The rates
to small manufacturers are in some cases
lower than those prevailing throughout
the State.
Churches and Schools.
Burlington has ten churches with a
property valuation of $144,000. All
the leading evangelical denominations
are represented among them. The
school system of the city is recognized
as one of the best in the State. It is
equipped with twenty-three teachers
and is conducted along the most modern
and accepted methods.
Real Estate and Loans.
Four real estate, insurance and trust
companies are doing business in the city.
Land is plentiful. And while it sells
at a fair figure, the values are not
exaggerated. There exist many splen-
did sites for manufacturing enterprises
which may be had at reasonable prices.
They may be had on or near the rail-
road. And attractive locations for
homes abound. Recent developments
are being opened up and placed on the
market and building is progressing
276
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
rapidly. Two live building and loan
associations aid much in building up the
city and have enabled many to build for
themselves attractive homes.
Burlington's growth has been steady
and at the same time rapid. It has been
singularly free from the boom disease
and its values have at all times been
solid. Today it is one of the most
prosperous little cities in the State.
And its outlook is bright, notwithstand-
other States and to attract residents
and capital to it.
Burlington wants more manufacturing
plants. The people of the city believe
in the future of their town and in the
advantages it has to offer in every way
to the prospective manufacturer. Every
reasonable inducement is offered. The
town not only invites the location of
manufacturing plants, but offers co-
operation in legitimate business enter-
Large Electric Sign Erected Over the Business Center ol Barlington,
Displaying Slogan of the City and the Chamber of Commerce
ing the much talked about hard times.
The citizens of the town are alive to
their opportunities and to the possibili-
ties of Burlington. The Chamber of
Commerce, an organization of the pro-
gressive, enthusiastic citizens of the
town, has done much through its untiring
secretary, Mr. R. F. Williams, to place
Burlington before the people of this and
prises. There is money in Burlington
that can be interested in the proper
business.
Some Manufacturing Plants.
Among the numerous manufacturing
industries of Burlington, one of the most
unique is the Keystone Finishing Mills.
Mr. W. K. Holt is president of this com-
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
277
pany, and Mr. J. M. Browning is secre-
tary. The mills were established Janu-
ary 1910 with a paid in capital of $31,000.
The work of the plant consists in
bleaching, dyeing and finishing hosiery.
Sulphur black and developed dyes are
used. The company employes 100 peo-
ple and has a capacity of 3000 dozen
pairs of hose per day. It was organized
with a view to doing the dyeing and
finishing of the five hosiery mills located
in Burlington, none of which were
equipped ' with dyeing and finishing
plants. The plan worked admirably.
And at present the finishing mills are not
only doing the work of the local mills
but have built up a large patronage out-
side Burlington. Mr. Browning, the
manager, is a man of broad experience
and has been singularly successful in the
operation of the plant. He states the
probability is that the local mills will
at no distant date organize a selling
department with a force that can dispose
of their output, thus eliminating the
jobber.
Among the hosiery manufacturing
interests there is no company better
known than the Whitehead Hosiery
Mills, Inc., of Burlington. The com-
pany has a daily output of 1200 pairs
of half hose per day. It manufactures
200 and 220 needle, combed peeler and
mercerized half hose, for which it has
always found a ready market. Under
the management of Mr. R. H. White-
head, secretary and treasurer, the com-
pany has had a very successful career.
It is capitalized at $100,000.
Another of Burlington's enterprising
companies is the Southern Hosiery Com-
pany, manufacturers of high grade cotton
hosiery. Mr. R. H. Whitehead is
president of the company, C. J. Boland
vice-president and L. C. Chrisman
secretary and treasurer. They manu-
facture a high spliced double sole product
and have a big demand for their output.
Additional room is to be built to permit
the enlargement of the plant in the
immediate future. The company man-
ufactures 250 dozen pairs a day. Finish-
ing is done by the Keystone Finishing
Company.
The Piedmont Hotel
The traveling public is rendered
splendid hotel service at the Piedmont
Hotel. The building is modern and
well equipped throughout. The rooms
are large and well lighted, heated and
ventilated. The service is kept up to
the highest degree of efficiency and the
excellent table is enjoyed and appre-
ciated by the large traveling public
frequenting the city.
The hotel is owned and managed by
Mr. L. I. Young, one of the State's best
hotel men. He is courterous and accom-
modating and is very popular with his
patrons, among whom he has a wide
circle of friends.^
Proposed Inter- urban.
A proposed development which will
mean much to Burlington is now being
projected in that busy and progressive
little city by the Alamance, Durham
and Orange Railway and Electric Rail-
way Company of Burlington. The com-
pany proposes to construct an inter-
urban electric railway from Ossipee
and Altamahaw through Glencoe, Caro-
lina, Hopedale, Burlington, Graham,
Haw River, Swepsonville, Saxapahaw,
River Falls and Chapel Hill to Durham,
a distance of some fifty miles. It is
stated that the proposed railway is
reasonably certain of being constructed
within the near future.
278
SKY-LAND MAGAZINE
CAROLINA BEACH— THE GOLDEN
RESORT
CAROLINA BEACH, which has been
called "Nature's Most Wonder-
ful All-Year-Round Resort", developed
by the New Hanover Transit Company
of Wilmington, is fast gaining a large
place in the minds of those who visit
the seaside and is on the way to become
the most popular seaside resort in the
State. Located near Wilmington, it is
easily accessible from that city by water
and automobile. The commodious
steamship Wilmington makes daily trips
between Wilmington and Carolina
Beach. Good roads have been built
for automobile travel and soon a trolley
car line will connect the beach with
Wilmington.
And Carolina Beach is ideally located.
On one side the Atlantic ocean rolls
upon its shores, while on the other —
across a fine mainland — the waves of
the Cape Fear river sweep its rugged
coasts; and to the north the mainland
extends on and on, merging from the
beachland into rich agricultural ground.
Points of Historic Interest.
From a historical standpoint the
stretch of road south of the Loop is one
of the most interesting in the county.
By the roadside may be seen the famous
double breastworks used by the Confed-
erates to defend this section from invas-
sion, while at regular intervals may be
seen long avenues, leading to the sound
from the river.
A short distance to the right, going
down, is Sedgeley Abbey, the historic
old ruins spoken of in Mr. James
Sprunt's new book, "Chronicles of the
Cape Fear." This old mansion was
connected with the sound by means of a
perfectly straight avenue which may yet
be dimly seen.
Further down, on the river side, half
mile from the road is the site of the
famous old Gander Hall, whose colonial
owner made himself a joke forever in
this community by going into the busi-
ness of raising geese. Preferring to raise
the large white ones exclusively he
purchased scores of that kind, with the
result that he had a farm full of ganders
and not a lady goose in the bunch.
It is interesting to note the signifi-
cance of the red cedar telephone poles
which line the roadside. These were
used by the government during the
Spanish-American war to connect Wil-
mington by telephone with a lookout
station shortly this side of Carolina
Beach, in order that the city might be
warned of the approach of the antici-
pated Spanish fleet. Later the poles
were sold to a telephone company,
when all danger was passed.
Activity at Beach
The resort itself is taking on life for
the summer's enjoyment. One new
cottage is nearly completed, another is
beginning to be built, a third property
owner has purchased his lumber, while
several others have said that they will
build during the summer. It is esti-
mated that 25 or more families will
spend the summer at the beach this year.
The road at present is not what it will
be, but even under the present condi-
tions autos make a speed of 15 miles
an hour and more. There is talk of
operating an automobile line to the
beach this summer.
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